It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas
by Nerdalieee
Summary: When Alfred Jones finds out that his boss, Arthur Kirkland, doesn't care for Christmas, he decides to make it his sole mission in life to change his mind; even if it takes all of December to do it.
1. This Christmas

Hello! I'm not dead!

It's been a while since I wrote anything, but I'm really looking forward to this story because I love Christmas! Please enjoy and leave a review if you'd like! 3 :)

* * *

Arthur walks into the bank early Monday morning with a grimace, partly because of the bright lights affecting his hangover, and partly because of the chirpy christmas music that was blaring from the speakers. Or, well, it probably wasn't blaring, but it sure seemed that way to Arthur. Arriving in his office, he sets his briefcase on his desk in his office, quickly takes out some medicine to hopefully quell his headache, and then sets towards the breakroom to make himself some tea, making a face as the song changes to an even happier one. Before he can make it all the way, a familiar face stops in front of him with a chipper smile, holding two mugs; one filled with coffee, and the other with tea. Arthur smiles.

Alfred had been a friend since he'd gotten the job as the manager of this bank five years ago. Or, well, not exactly _right_ when he got the job. Alfred had been the resident police officer at the bank for about two years before Arthur joined the team. The brit had a hard time trusting random strangers on principle and Alfred had a hard time not making friends. It was an unstoppable force against an immovable object, and eventually Arthur relented, but only slightly. Alfred still barely knew anything about Arthur, whereas Arthur knew almost _everything_ about Alfred. He knew his parents were still happily married, rarely fought, and recently adopted a new, gigantic St. Bernard. He knew that Alfred had an older brother, who was much more reserved than Alfred - Arthur lost count of how many times he said he wished that Matthew worked for him instead. Arthur knew almost every aspect of how Alfred grew up; that he lived in Texas for the majority of his childhood, hence the slight accent, and moved to New York with his family when he was about 17.

Arthur, on the other hand, never gave much information about his own life, despite how long they'd known each other. He couldn't help that the happy-go-lucky lad was an open book and he wasn't. As far as Arthur was concerned, it wasn't really any of Alfred's business as a friend, let alone as an employee of his. The most he could get out of Arthur was that he was born in England - he didn't even give a specific area - and had moved to the states when he turned eighteen to get away from his family. But that was all he would give up. Alfred eventually figured that instead of pressing Arthur about his life, he would just get him interested in his own, and eventually Arthur would come around.

He was right. It took about two years, but he was right.

"Mornin', Artie," Alfred says, handing the mug of tea to Arthur, who rolls his eyes at the pet name.

"It's _Arthur_ , Alfred, for the last time," He says, before taking a sip. He suppresses a pleased smile; Alfred had learned how to make the perfect cup of tea from Arthur a long time ago, but he refused to let Alfred ever know he was correct. He got this stupid smug look on his face and never stopped bragging about how he was right. The last time Arthur let him believe he was right, or that he did something good, he didn't stop hearing about it for three weeks. Alfred, however, had learned that Arthur didn't like when he bragged, so he stopped doing that a long time ago. And every time he gave Arthur the correct mug of tea, he had to stop himself from calling out Arthur's lie; he'd rather the other man not be upset just so Alfred can prove he was right. So, when he fakes a grimace, but continues to drink it as he turns and heads back to his office, Alfred allows himself a small knowing smile. He follows the other man into his office.

"Not good?" He asks innocently.

"Mm, I've had better," Arthur responds, taking a seat. He logs into his computer and starts his first daily task until the bank starts to get busy; checking his emails.

"Hm, really? I really thought I had it this time. Earl grey, five minutes to steep, two teaspoons of sugar, a slice of fresh lemon squeezed into it..." Alfred says, leaning on the doorway. He takes a sip of his coffee as Arthur blushes, stammers a bit, before he pretends to take an unhappy sip of the tea, exaggerating the grimace. He stays silent. Alfred hides his smile behind his mug, allowing himself this one pleasure of teasing the other man without making it obvious that he knew he was right. As much as he wanted to tell Arthur he knew he was right, he hated when Arthur refused to talk to him, so he just let it pass, instead choosing to sit down in front of Arthur's desk, leaning back with a happy sigh.

"Aw, man, I'm so happy we're playing Christmas music now. I wish we played it earlier, but I know how upset people get when places start playing it before Thanksgiving." He says with a laugh. Arthur nods.

"Yes, I insisted that it wait until December began, because last year we got _countless_ complaints…"

"Good idea," Alfred takes another sip of his coffee, humming along to the music playing over the speakers. Arthur sighs, he wanted to tell Alfred to get back to his job, but Alfred would just argue that there was nothing to get back to; besides, he wasn't the only police officer in the building right now. And anyway, as much as they argued, Alfred always won that argument, so it was a moot point.

"I'm excited for Christmas, though. I'm heading upstate to my parent's house this year! I'm gonna meet Shelley and- oh, that's the dog's name, did I tell you that?"

"Yes, Alfred."

"Oh, good. I think I'm gonna get my momma a new cookware set, but I have no idea what to get my dad yet- oh, and Matthew's present has gotta be great because the one he got me last year was amazing! Ah, Matthew's excited for Christmas too, he's bringin' a date, didja know that?"  
"Yes, Alfred."

"Sorry," Alfred laughs, but continues blabbering on. Arthur continues to check his emails while absentmindedly listening to Alfred. This is how most mornings began at the bank. Alfred brought them both drinks - he was always here before Arthur, no matter how hard Arthur tried to be early - then sat down and told him about his life; what happened the night before, especially if he'd had a few days off, what was happening soon, any new gossip he'd heard around the bank. And around the holidays, he grew even more talkative, always talking about his family and his friends and how excited he was. Arthur always grew extremely jealous, but he'd just let Alfred ramble on, emitting a few "yes" and "no"s every now and then, glancing up if he paused, answering questions if they came up (though they rarely did), and drinking his tea. When they'd first met, Alfred attempted to do all of this, and Arthur grew fairly annoyed quickly; but over the years, he grew rather fond of these morning chats with his favorite police officer. Of course, he would never admit that to Alfred. He had a feeling Alfred knew, however, because he always sat so comfortably in the chairs in front of his desk, instead of standing in the doorway, talking at Arthur, like he always had in those first formative years.

After a few minutes, Arthur finishes his tea and turns to Alfred to listen more attentively. He was nothing if not polite.

"So, you excited for Christmas?" Alfred asks after a pause.

"Ugh, no," Arthur says, putting his face in one hand with a sigh. "I hate Christmas."

Alfred almost chokes on his coffee, then stares at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Arthur looks up from his mug after a moment, noticing the longer than 2-second silence; a silence around Alfred never lasted long. Had he said something to upset him?

"I'm… sorry, I think I just hallucinated. I thought I heard you say you hate Christmas."

"I do." Arthur says simply, blinking at Alfred.

"What… Whaddya _mean_ you hate Christmas?" Alfred asks in disbelief, staring at the man in front of him. He feels as though he's going to drop his coffee mug, so he carefully sets it down on Arthur's desk. Arthur blinks at him again.

"I… mean I hate Christmas. What about that sentence is so difficult to understand?"

"Well… All of it! How could you possibly hate Christmas!"

"Quite easily. It makes all the shops busy and noisy, people are selfish and only celebrate so they have an excuse to receive presents, and besides, I hate my family, anyway," Arthur says, turning back to his emails. Alfred is silent again, mouth opening and closing over and over again, almost like a fish out of water.

"That's…"

"Alfred, I can't possibly be the only person who has ever told you they hate Christmas."

"You are!" Alfred shouts, making Arthur wince. "Sorry. It's just… Everyone I know adores Christmas and everything about it. We start getting ready for Christmas in _September_ for fucks sake!" Arthur rolls his eyes and finishes his tea.

"That is absurd."

"It is not!"

"And watch your language while on the clock." Alfred rolls his eyes. "Anyway, it _is_ absurd. Don't you Americans have another Holiday in November to celebrate? Why would you start celebrating in September?"

"Well… Yeah, we celebrate Thanksgiving, too, but Christmas is so much better! There's snow-"

"Cold and icy."

"-great music-"

"Repetitive and annoying."

"-you get to spend time with your family-"

"Also annoying."

"-and you get to spread joy and cheer to everyone!"

"Rubbish."

Alfred frowns at Arthur and taps his fingers on his desk. He's known Arthur for five years now, and this is the first time he's heard of this. How is that possible? Well, Arthur never really talked about his family or his home life, but Alfred just always assumed that he did celebrate Christmas. He was just… quiet about it. _Everyone_ celebrated Christmas. He always offers to have Arthur spend Christmas with his family, because he knew he didn't go home to his family in the UK, but the brit always declined. Arthur returns to his computer as Alfred sits there, mouth opening and closing, trying to come up with something to say to piece together the Arthur puzzle.

After a moment, Alfred realizes the other man must just hide himself in his house and lie to Alfred about how his Christmas vacation was. He's always said it was exceptional, that he had a wonderful time away from work; he technically never says anything specific, or anything about his family, but Al had always just… assumed. Now, Alfred felt horrible for bragging about how amazing his Christmas vacation always is; he gets to visit his big family, give all the kids in his family great presents and see their excited little faces light up when they open them, and cook great meals with his mother, and all the little stuff in between. Arthur must celebrate all alone, and not experience all the good things about Christmas, and _that's_ why he hates it!

"Aha!" Alfred shouts, jumping up from his seat, making Arthur jump. The silence had lapsed into five minutes and Arthur had become absorbed in other things. Now his head was pounding. "I've got it!"  
"Got what?"

"A plan!"

"A plan?"

"To make you love Christmas!" Arthur scoffs at this, standing up from his desk.

"Alfred, please-"

"No, I'm serious!" Alfred shouts, slamming his hands on Arthur's desk. Arthur glares at him and Al removes his hands. "Sorry. But I am. I'm going to make you _love_ Christmas as much as I do." He pauses. "Well, maybe close to it, anyway." Arthur rolls his eyes yet again.

"Alfred, really, please don't worry yourself," Arthur says, opening his door and standing by it, inviting Alfred to leave. He needed peace and quiet, and, anyway, a few people had started to filter into the bank, so Alfred needed to get started on his own job. Alfred purses his lips in thought, still sitting down by the other's desk. "Alfr-"

"How about a bet?" Alfred says. He smirks when he sees that he's piqued his interest; his eyebrow raised and he presses his lips into a thin line as he thinks, quickly deciding whether or not this was appropriate, Alfred was sure.

"... What kind of bet…?"

"I bet that I can make you love Christmas by the end of December, and if I do, you have to spend New Year's with me-"

"Alright-"

" _And_!" Alfred smirks, standing and putting his hands on his hips. "You have to tell the entire staff that you _love_ Christmas, and that you were wrong, and I was right." He stands triumphantly, with this big, smug smirk on his face, and Arthur frowns. If Alfred did win, he would absolutely lose the respect of everyone who works for him. Placing such a bet with someone he employs was bad in and of itself, but if he lost and had to admit that Alfred was right, it would be such a low blow to his ego and pride, he wasn't sure he'd be able to recover. Plus, to _lose_ and to have to tell the entire staff…

Then again, all he had to do was not let Alfred win.

"What do I get if you lose?" Arthur asks, raising an eyebrow and standing up straight, as if to show Alfred that he was not afraid of these conditions.

"You name it."

"Hm…" Arthur thinks for a moment, then smirks. "You have to stop bugging me about the holidays, and you have to tell the entire staff that _I_ was right, and that Christmas is overplayed." At this, Alfred frowns and looks around the office, trying to find a reason to object.

"What's the matter, _Alfie_? Afraid you'll lose?" Arthur says with a smirk. Alfred looks up and shakes his head.

"What? No! Of course not! I'm just afraid you'll lose your pride if _you_ lose." Alfred grins and extends a hand to a frowning Arthur, who shakes it with earnest.

"You'd best start preparing a speech, Artie," Alfred says as he gathers the mugs off of Arthur's desk and walks towards the door. "A concession speech. 'My dear bank employees, I have something wonderful to tell you, my dearest, closest, bestest friend Alfred has shown me the true ways of Christmas and I must inform you that Christmas is just as wonderful as he is!'" Alfred says in an outlandish British accent, mimicking Arthur's, before he makes the sound of a crowd applauding and shouting.

"Oh, shut it, and get to work, you bloody imbecile." Alfred grins as he is pushed out of Arthur's office.

"Just you wait, Artie, I'm gonna make you love Christmas so much you'll start celebrating in July! Christmas in July! Christmas every month! You'll see!"

Arthur rolls his eyes and closes his door, returning to his duties as the bank's manager. As good as Alfred's intentions were, he really got on his nerves sometimes.


	2. Winter Things

Sighing happily as the Christmas music is finally turned off, Arthur answers the last email, then shuts down his computer. It was finally the end of his shift, and it had been a rather crazy one; several customers came in and didn't seem to understand - or care - that there were only so many bank tellers to help them with their bank deposits and withdrawals. No matter how calmly he spoke to each and every patron, they would yell in his face about how he needed to hire better people and then they'd threaten to move banks and... He sighs. He had dealt with close to ten crazy- er, very upset customers within the last hour before the bank closed. He couldn't wait until he could just go home and relax with a nice glass of whiskey-

"Hey Art!" Alfred jumps up from the chair outside his office when he sees Arthur open up his door. "Ready to go?"

"Ready to go?" Arthur frowns at him. "What are you talking about?"

"I came up with a great idea today, so we gotta get goin'!"

"What? Alfred, please, it's been a very long day, and-"

"Aw, c'mon, Artie! I only have so long to make you love Christmas, so I'm going to have to use every single second I can!" He grins.

"I'd really rather not, Alfred." Arthur says, standing up and pulling on his jacket. "I have had a very long day and I just want to go home and relax in front of the fake fireplace on my television."

"Oh, come on, it'll be fun! I promise!" At Arthur's blank stare, Alfred pouts. "Please? Just give me an hour. I have a really great idea and I think you'll like it."

"Alfred…"

"Please?" Alfred exaggerates his pout and starts to whine. "Please please please please please please please please-"

"Alright, fine!" Arthur shouts, then sighs. "Fine." Alfred grins and grab his hand, all but dragging him out of the bank and into the parking lot. Arthur blushes as the brash American continues to hold his hand. He rips his hand free to slow down. Alfred stops in front of him, still grinning that wide, foolish grin of his.

" _Where_ are we going?"

"You'll see!" Alfred turns and starts walking off towards his truck, making Arthur roll his eyes. He pauses for a moment to contemplate his decision. Was he really going to do this? He had no idea what Alfred had in store for him, and, for all he knew, Alfred had his heart set on outright humiliating him just because he could. He knew Alfred better than that, knew that Alfred would never be that cruel, but it was still a nagging thought in the back of his head. He couldn't help but worry that all of this would end poorly for all those involved, but… He sighs. Was he really going to spend his nights with Alfred, just to get him off his back about Christmas? And was he really going to humiliate himself if he lost?

No, no he wasn't, because he wouldn't lose. Arthur knows himself well enough that he could guarantee that Alfred would be the one to lose. So, he takes a deep breath, stands up straight, and quickly jogs to catch up to Alfred and join him in his truck.

* * *

After a few minutes of driving and listening to Christmas tunes - much to Arthur's chagrin - the two blondes stand in front of the local skating rink, watching the numerous ice skaters as they seem to float around on the ice, spinning and racing and laughing. Wives and husbands hold each other close as they slowly skate around the rink, young couples tentatively hold hands, and little kids race around each other and the older patrons, yelling and screaming and laughing. Arthur stares incredulously.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me." He turns towards Alfred, who still has that famous grin on his face. "No, I'm serious, you're kidding me, right?"

"C'mon!" Alfred says with a roll of his eyes, grabbing Arthur's hand once again and leading him to the skates rental. He pays for his and Arthur's skates - ignoring Arthur's stubborn insistence that he can pay for himself - before walking to a set of benches in order to put the skates on. The brit makes a face at the used skates.

"I am _not_ putting these on."

"Why not?"

"Because they're used and disgusting! Who knows who's worn these shoes?" Arthur complains, tossing them onto the bench by Alfred. The other man pauses to think, hands paused on the laces as he was pulling them tight; he knew he could never reason with the other man, and even if he tried, they would just spend all night arguing. Using logic with Mr. Logical himself would never work, but Alfred wasn't about to give up on him that easily. What could he possibly tell him that would convince him to at least give him a chance?

A light-bulb goes off in his head and he has to bite his lip to keep from smirking. With a sigh, he shrugs and unties his shoelaces, slowly. He pretends to be extremely disappointed as he speaks dejectedly to Arthur.

"Alright, then we'll just have to tell everyone you forfeited…"

"... Wh-what?"

"Well, if you don't want to go through with our bet, that means you forfeit. Which, technically, means I win."

"What? No it doesn't!"

"Yes it does. Trust me, I've made enough bets in my life to know the official rules of these things." Alfred smiles sadly, then continues taking off his skates. Arthur stares at Alfred and he has to slow his movements even further (he'd thought this would work sooner). Arthur considers his next movements for a long time; if he forfeits, Alfred is right, he would have to concede to his part of the bet. But if he gives in to Alfred's conditions and puts on the disgusting, used shoes and skates on the ice with him… Groaning, he sits down and starts to takes off his street shoes. Alfred stays silent, looks over at him with a surprised face, then smiles to himself and puts the skates back on.

The two blondes make their way towards the skating rink - Alfred a bit more easily than Arthur. He keeps his arms folded the entire time as he stumbles while walking on the ground before the rink, making Alfred laugh.

"Y'know, you can hold onto my arm if you want."

"What? I don't. I'm fine. Shut up." He objects with a blush, walking quickly in front of him - though he almost trips and falls about five times within three steps. Alfred almost feels bad for the poor guy, but, then again, it was really funny seeing a grown man stumble around and deny any and all help offered. Walking over to the ice with ease, having done this a million times, Alfred steps onto the ice, then skates away a few feet. After a moment, he turns around to talk to Arthur.

"Y'know, I-" He cuts himself off as he sees Arthur carefully steps onto the ice with one foot, while holding onto the railing as if he may die if he lets go. He slips and quickly pulls the foot back onto solid ground; attempting this a few times, he finally gets a stable foot on the ice, then follows it with his other foot, shakily stepping onto the ice and sliding towards the center. Alfred holds back a laugh, watching him with his lips pressed together in a thin line.

Arthur slowly makes his way towards Alfred, his arms outstretched on either side of him to keep balance. He looks up and glares when he sees the face Alfred is making while trying not to laugh.

"What? Are you laughing at me?" Arthur asks, slipping forward. Al leans forward to catch him, arms outstretched, but he stables himself glares harder at the other man. "Stop laughing!"

"I'm not! It's just…" He watches Arthur for a second, as the blonde tries to push forward to start skating but just manages to fall over again. Alfred thinks about his next words very carefully. He decides he can afford to tease Arthur just a _little_ bit. "You're very good at _catching_ yourself, at least." He says with a small smirk, earning an even harsher glare.

"Shut up!" Arthur smacks his shoulder, the force of it pushing him away from the other man. "Bloody hell, this is ridiculous! I'm going back! I never should have accepted this bet! You're a bloody fool, and _I'm_ a bloody fool for agreeing to go with you!" He tries to turn around but can't get good footing. Alfred stands a foot away, ready to catch him at any second.

"Art, if you just hold my arm-"

"I will not!"

"Really, it's not that bad-"

"Shut it!"

"Everyone else is doing it!"

"Everyone else is a _couple_ or a _child_ , and we are neither a couple nor children!" Arthur all but growls at him, arms swinging wildly as he tries to stop himself from falling once again. Unfortunately, in his haste, he loses his stable footing and slips backwards. He closes his eyes tight and braces for the harsh fall and the pain he's sure is to come... but it never does. Arthur opens his eyes and sees bright blue ones staring down at him through thin glasses. He feels warm breath on his cold face and slowly realizes he feels strong arms on his back and around his torso. His face begin to burn as blood rushes to his cheeks. Alfred is close. Much too close. But for some reason Arthur doesn't immediately object. After a moment, Alfred smiles.

"You okay?" He asks, holding him close and securely. Arthur suddenly realizes the compromising position they're in and pushes away from Alfred - but the damn git holds him close, so as to make sure he doesn't fall and get hurt.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine! Let me go!" He demands, squirming in the other man's arms, shoving his palms against the other man's chest.

"Okay…" Alfred opens his arms suddenly and Arthur falls flat on his ass. He looks up at Alfred with a glare that could kill, but the other man just smiles down at him. "What? You told me to-"

"I know what I told you!" He says, struggling to stand up once again. Unfortunately, he only succeeds in slipping on his ass two or three more times. Alfred has to cover his mouth with a gloved hand to keep a laugh from slipping out. He'd seen plenty of grown men fall on the ice before, sure. But he'd never seen one so angry and stubborn, unrelenting about not needing help. Arthur was one of a kind.

"Well, are you just going to stand there staring, or are you going to help me up?"

"Hm? Oh, I just figured you didn't want my help anymore." Arthur scowls.

"Smartass…" He mumbles, looking away at the happy couples skating around them. He pulls his legs up to his chest and hugs them, suddenly feeling extremely self conscious. Alfred watches the other skaters for a moment as well, before he smiles sympathetically and sits down on the ice with him. "What are you doing?"

"Y'know…" Alfred hums, leaning back and looking up at the stars - barely visible above the city lights, but shining nonetheless. "My dad first taught me to skate when I was eight." Arthur opens his mouth to interject, but chooses instead to close it and look at the ice. He'd… kind of grown fond of Alfred's stories.

"I… was not very good. At all. I couldn't even stand up on the ice, so you've got one thing on eight year old me." Alfred grins as Arthur rolls his eyes. "But anyway. My dad told me that even the greatest ice skaters had fallen on the ice thirty or forty times in their lifetimes, and that I could give up and accept defeat or I could push past it and go to victory."

"So, let me guess, you kept going and eventually became the best figure skater in your town?" Arthur says with a scowl. That was usually how Alfred's stories went.

"Ha!" Alfred shakes his head. "Nope. That was Matthew. I gave up. Completely."

"Wait, what? I thought you were giving me a pep talk."

"Oh, I am." Alfred smiles. "Just shut up and listen." The brit turns away and huffs.

"Anyway… I gave up until I was sixteen. I met this beautiful girl who wanted to be a professional figure skater. She needed a partner for a competition coming up, and I lied, and told her I could skate really well." Alfred pauses, taking a moment to look around at the cute couples; it was obvious who was starting out and who had been together for years. Various couples held hands meekly, looking up from the ice with shy smiles every now and then. Others held each other close or held hands more securely, talking amiably and spinning around on the ice every now and then. After a few moments of quiet people-watching, Arthur finds the silence between them… comfortable. He loosens his grip around his legs. Despite being surrounded by all of these people in their own little world, with Alfred sitting on the ice with him, he feels less like he's the center of attention. At least with Alfred here, he's not the only one that everyone is skating around.

"What happened?" He can't help it. Alfred is an amazing storyteller. And extremely patient.

"I trained for three weeks. Went to the skating rink every single day after school until, like, ten o'clock, and went all day on the weekends too. I got pretty good. Not, like, professional good, but local-ice-skating-competition-winner good. Or like, I _thought_ I was winner worthy. When it came time for the competition, I guess I was just… super nervous to impress her; I fell on my ass more times than I could count on my fingers and toes." With a chuckle, Arthur slowly stretches out his legs again; now that he wasn't the only one sitting on the ice, he felt… better. Not fantastic, but… better.

"So…"

"So, even though I did poorly, she won, because despite me being a terrible partner, she did really well. And, also, it was a local competition, so the judges weren't too hard on her. She thanked me for the effort, but got really mad that I lied to her. Obviously."

"Alfred, what is the point of this story?"

"My _point_ ," Alfred says, rolling his eyes and looking pointedly at him. "is that I'm not going to force you to learn how to skate. If you _really_ want to get off this ice, I will help you do that. But if you want to learn, I am more than willing to teach you, because it really is fun once you learn. And you'll feel a lot better about yourself afterwards if you do learn, than if you turn and walk away. Trust me." Arthur turns to look at Alfred, knees still hugging his chest.

"How about I give you a few laps to think about it?" Alfred stands with ease and starts to skate away from Arthur. Suddenly, now that Arthur was alone on the ice again, he can feel everyone's eyes on him as they skate around him. He feels as though he's starting to panic. Alfred only gets a few feet away, before Arthur calls out to him.

"Wait!" Arthur shouts, and he skids to a stop, turning to look. The brit thinks for a moment, tapping his fingers on his thighs, before he puts a hand out, silently. Alfred grins and skates back towards him, choosing to ignore the bright pink cheeks on the other man rather than tease him and make him even more embarrassed.

"Alright, up ya go," Alfred says as he picks Art up from the ground easily. He helps him get his footing, then moves behind him and holds his waist. Arthur clears his throat and glances around at the couples around them, still a bit panicky. All in their own little world, no one really notices them, now that they're not sitting in the middle of the pathway they were taking to skate. Even the little kids are too absorbed in themselves to really notice them, he notes. He takes a deep breath, then nods.

"Alright, now just one foot at a time…" He gives him a little push, then moves around to stand next to him. Arthur slips, and reaches out to grip Alfred, who lends an arm for stability. "Just watch how I'm doing it. Just step out and push, just like this…" Arthur stares down at Alfred's skates, trying to mimic his movements in an effort to skate forward.

"That's great! You're doing great!" Alfred says quietly, so as to not call attention to them and embarrass Arthur; he still blushes, however. After a bit of practice, Arthur feels confident enough to not hold on as tightly to Alfred's arm, and slowly, he begins to skate alongside Alfred, arms still outstretched as if he may fall at any given moment. He's stiff and can't take his eyes off the ice, but he's skating, at least. Alfred hums a holiday tune.

For a while, Alfred just skates alongside Arthur while humming quietly; every now and then he has to reach out and grip the other man's hips to steady him, which makes Arthur blush deeply. He'd swat at Alfred's hands, and they're quickly removed. After taking another glance around, he'd continue attempting to skate on his own, still holding on tightly to Alfred's arm. After Alfred has to steady him a few times, Arthur stops swatting his hands away, and instead Alfred just makes sure he's good before he takes his hands back again. Arthur stops glancing up at the other skaters, choosing to believe that they really aren't noticing them. Somehow, it helps, and Arthur eventually is skating a little bit more confidently.

"... How did you get so good at this?" Arthur inquires quietly.

"What, skating? I told you, I-"

"No, teaching how to skate. Being so patient..." He trails off, but Alfred understands what he means. It isn't easy to teach that quickly, let alone with someone as stubborn and as easily embarrassed as he is, yet Alfred managed to do just that. The other man shrugs, putting his hands in his pockets. He pushes forward a little bit and spins so he's skating backwards, showing off a little bit but still at the same pace as Arthur.

"Practice," He says with a smirk. Arthur glances up at Alfred and glowers at him a bit, but immediately slips on the ice a bit as he takes his eyes off of what he was doing. He reaches forward as he falls, and Alfred quickly catches him by his forearms. He holds him steady for a moment, then grins at him.

"Hey, you wanna go really fast?" He asks. Arthur starts to protest, but before he can get an argument out, Alfred's turned around and is pulling him around the skating rink at a ridiculously fast pace, gripping his right hand tightly. Arthur yelps as he's yanked forward, and holds on tightly to Alfred's hand.

"Woohoo!" Alfred shouts, turning with the curve of the rink and pulling Arthur with him. He zips and weaves and zags around the skating rink, and Arthur can't help but be glad that the other is turned away from him; if he could see Arthur right now, he'd see how much he was enjoying the feeling of safety with Alfred while feeling carefree and almost childish. No one else cared what the two were doing, and despite how many times _he'd_ shouted at Alfred, despite how many times he'd slipped or actually fallen, despite how loud Alfred was being, Arthur was having fun. But he couldn't admit that to Alfred. Alfred would brag endlessly about being right.

After a few moments, Alfred spins around once more, grabs Arthur's hands again, and grins at him. Arthur scowls at him as he slows down, continuing to pull Arthur around the rink.

"So?" Arthur sighs and shrugs.

"It's… tolerable." He admits, hands clutching Alfred's and cheeks flushed from the sudden adrenaline rush. Alfred rolls his eyes and smirks. That was Arthur's answer for 'I enjoyed it but don't want to give you the satisfaction of being right'. He'd said the same thing when Alfred spent weeks upon weeks trying to figure out the perfect combination for Arthur's daily tea. But Alfred knew better than to call him out, to tell him to admit how much fun he was having; so instead, he turns around and pulls him along with him again. Arthur shouts and calls Alfred's name, but it's drowned out by the sound of Alfred's shouting and the sound of air rushing past his ears.

* * *

They spend about two hours on the skating rink before Arthur notices the time and insists they leave. They carefully skate off of the rink and walk, albeit with difficulty, to the benches to take off their skates. Arthur had gotten significantly better at moving on the ice, but he still couldn't stop without falling. He was sure he would wake up with thirty bruises, at least.

"So, did you have fun?" Al asks as he slips on his normal shoes. Arthur shrugs.

"Hm, let's see, which was more fun: when I was falling on my ass over and over again and the people around us pointed and laughed? Or maybe when you grabbed me and raced around the rink like a couple of fools acting like children?" He retorts, ignoring Alfred's claims that no one pointed and laughed. "No, not really." He lies, hastily loosening the skates and pulling them off, before rolling his ankles with a small groan. Alfred smiles and stands, offering Arthur his hand again.

"Guess I'll just have to try harder." He looks down at Arthur with kind eyes, hand outstretched, and smile ever-present. Arthur looks up at him and blushes a bit, before he stands up on his own, ignoring the hand with a roll of his eyes.

"I'm not on the ice anymore, I don't need you to hold my hand."

"Ah, um… right." Alfred nods and picks up his skates, following Arthur to return them. After another short drive - without any Christmas music, as Alfred had decided that was enough torment for Arthur for one night - they make their way back in Alfred's truck to the bank's parking lot, so Arthur may drive his own car home. When he gets out of the truck, Arthur turns back to look at the other man for a moment.

"Um..." He clears his throat. "I will see you tomorrow. At work. Have a good night." He says, formally, before he closes the door and walks to his car. Alfred waits for him to get in his car, then drives to his own home with a happy smile, singing along quietly to the song playing on the radio.

* * *

 _Hey look at that, I figured out how to format correctly!_

 _Hope you guys enjoyed this one! I love writing easily embarrassed Arthur in compromising positions. I also love writing cheesy romantic tropes, so be prepared for like... all of those. :p_


	3. Hark! The Hallmark Angels Sing!

The two go a few days without incident. Arthur half hopes that Alfred just forgot about their bet, and that maybe he wouldn't have to do anything embarrassing and exhausting anymore. He still hated Christmas, which would mean that he would win the bet, but more importantly, it meant no more sore ankles and sore… well… everything else. In all honesty, he felt like he was an American football player who got tackled over and over again and needed an ice bath just because he fell on the ice about a thousand times. Absentmindedly, he rolls his ankles while he sits at his desk; he's a little worried he may have sprained something because of how much he still hurt.

"Hey Arthur!" Alfred's head peeks into Arthur's office and breaks him from his thoughts. "You free tonight?" He answers with a scowl, making Alfred laugh.

"Don't worry, we're not going ice skating or anything like that again," He leans against the door with a grin. "I knew you were probably sore, which is why I gave you time to rest up."

"My ankles _still_ hurt," Arthur mumbles.

"So, are you free?" With a sigh, he nods. "Great! Okay, I'll meet you here in a few hours at the end of your shift!"

* * *

Arthur spends the rest of his shift dreading what Alfred would take him to do. He could only imagine the worst ideas; sledding? He hated sledding. All sledding was good for was going down a very short hill and then climbing up over and over again. It was a lot of effort for not a lot of fun. Almost like the world's most boring roller coaster. Maybe they would go get Alfred a Christmas tree? People did that, right? But it was another thing Arthur always thought was a waste of time, money, and effort. You look for the "perfect", expensive tree, only to kill it and display it in your home, until it dies a few weeks later? It was idiotic. He couldn't think of anything Alfred could possibly bring him to do that he would enjoy.

Regardless, Arthur turns his computer off right at five o'clock. _Might as well get it over with,_ he reasons. There's no reason to keep Alfred waiting, and besides, he might be more cruel and make him do something more embarrassing because he stalled.

"Right on time!" Alfred says as Arthur opens his office door. "Alright, so, the plan-"

"Oh, I get to know the plan this time?"

"Well, since you got so upset last time, I figured surprising you might not be the best idea."

"I was not _so upset_ -"

"So the _plan_ ," Alfred reiterates, giving Arthur a look that meant he wasn't going to argue with him. Arthur closes and locks his door with a "hmph". "Is that _we_ are going to a movie."

"... That's it?"

"Whaddya mean that's it? We're seeing Christmas movies, obviously!" Alfred laughs, walking out with Arthur after he locks his door. "You like movies, right?" The other man nods, smiling.

"Yes, actually. I love movies."

"Great! They're doing a marathon of Christmas movies at the theater tonight, and I thought it'd be fun if we go! It isn't usually that popular, but I go every year with my brother."

"And what about this year?" Arthur asks, walking with Alfred to his truck. "You're ditching him to spend the evening with your _boss_ , just to prove a point?"

"Well… yeah, but Matt knows how important you-er, uh, how-how important _this_ is to me, I mean," Alfred turns away, but not before Arthur sees a deep blush creeping its way onto his cheeks Arthur blushes as well, and quickly climbs into the truck.

A short drive to the movie theater later, Alfred pays for their tickets, despite the brit arguing that he could pay for himself. Instead, he buys the snack that Alfred insists they get - a large popcorn that Alfred begs for, even though he argues that it's far too much popcorn for just two people - and two drinks. After a few moments, they sit down in an almost empty theater, save for a few couples in the back.

"Wow, you were right," Art says with a chuckle. "This isn't very popular." Alfred nods and grins.

"Yeah… but honestly, that makes it more fun," He waggles his eyebrows. Arthur narrows his eyes at him.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, whenever it's this empty-" He glances up at the couples and laughs. "Or, well, when there are people here but they're just here to make out, it's fun to make fun of the movies. They can be super cheesy, so when it's not full of people who actually care about the movies, I like to give them some shit." Arthur smiles slyly, taking a few pieces of popcorn for himself.

"Alfred, I'm surprised at you. Defying the sanctity of the movie theater?" Alfred laughs.

"Yeah, well, it's kinda hard not to make fun of these movies. You'll see." Alfred grins over at Arthur as the lights dim, then shoves a handful of popcorn in his mouth.

* * *

An hour later, Arthur sits with his hand covering his mouth, trying to laugh covertly while Alfred throws popcorn at the screen.

"Oh, come on! That's obviously Santa! Are you guys stupid?"

"Alfred-!" Arthur hisses, trying to get him to quiet down, though he's still smiling. On the screen, the female lead frowns at the obviously-santa-character and whines.

" _But Nick-"_

"Oh my God, his name is Nick!" Alfred shouts, tossing another handful of popcorn towards the screen. Arthur snickers and reaches over to grab his arm.

"I paid for that popcorn, you buffoon!"

"Yeah, but, Artie, _his name is Nick_!" Alfred shouts while shaking Arthur's hand while it's still on his arm. The brit snorts and releases him, turning back to watch the cheesy Christmas romcom.

" _Jack is great, he's smart, he's nice, and he's always there for me-_ "

"He's _obviously_ gay," Arthur continues for the main character, then pops a piece of popcorn in his mouth. Alfred's head whips over to look at him.

"What?"

"Jack. He is absolutely gay." Alfred blinks.

"How do you know?"

"Are you kidding me?" Arthur glances at Alfred with a snort. "He's checked out at least five guys every time he's on screen with Holly. Plus, have you seen either of them kiss a single time since we learned they were engaged?"

"... No, I guess not…" He pauses and looks at Arthur with a smile. "Alright, smarty pants. What's gonna happen next, then?" Arthur hums, reaching over to take another piece of popcorn.

"Jack is going to realize he's gay, but we won't see that. They'll want to surprise us. And… eventually, Holly will realize _she_ loves Henry, and when she goes to break up with Jack, he'll tell her that he's gay. And they'll all live happily ever after." He goes to take a drink of his soda, then remembers one last bit. "Oh, and they'll kiss under the night sky and Santa will fly overhead and do his famous laugh while he passes by the moon."

"Wow," Alfred laughs. "How d'ya know all that'll happen?"

"These movies are predictable, especially when you've seen a few."

"You've… seen a few?" Arthur blinks, stammering as he realizes what he's just said.

"Um… n-no... Well… yes, I suppose I have… seen a few, over the years... " He blushes as Alfred looks shocked at him. "Th-they're always on Hallmark! It's hard not to see one or two, alright?"

"Liar. I've seen a few of these and I can't predict exactly what's going to happen. You watch all of them, don't you?" Arthur protests, but he keeps going, too surprised to remember that he shouldn't tease him if he wants Arthur to relax and trust him. "No, no, you do! I can tell! Your face is bright red, like it is every time I catch you lying!"

"W-when have you ever caught me lying?" He hisses, crossing his arms.

"You told me you got a present for me, but you didn't."

"H-how-"

"You also told me that you liked my new Christmas sweater last week, but I purposefully wore it to see if you would lie about it. It's so ugly, Arthur, it's got a reindeer literally coming out of the center of a wreath on the stomach! And _you_ just stammered and wouldn't look at me when you said it looked great."

"Well, I didn't want to hurt your feelings-" Arthur shakes his head. "Th-that's besides the point! Am I really that obvious?"

"When you lie, your eyes get really wide and you blush really dark. Plus you start fidgeting and stammering." Alfred smirks as Arthur's blush gets even darker. He… had no idea he did all of those things. Was he that obvious, or was Alfred just that astute? Either way, he was incredibly embarrassed.

"... Alright, alright, fine," Arthur fidgets a bit more under Alfred's watchful eye. "... I watch these movies every night after work during the Christmas season. I find them… hopeful and… I just like them, okay?" He looks over at Al and frowns at him.

"What?"

"You're judging me."

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes you are!"

"No, Arthur, I'm really not, I watch these all the time too. It's just…" He pauses to look at Arthur for a moment, before he smiles. "You never cease to surprise me." Arthur blushes again and looks away; Alfred follows his example, choosing to smile at the movie instead. He remains silent for a few minutes, before he begins fidgeting and looks down at his hands, embarrassed. Embarrassed, but… but also kind of proud. He'd never been complimented on this..

"It's…" He's so quiet Alfred barely hears him. "It's not like I only do this with these movies. I do this with every movie. Most people hate going to see new movies with me because I just tell them what's going to happen." Alfred stays silent, allowing for Arthur to continue as much as he wanted.

"Not, like, on purpose, of course. It just kind of… comes out. Like with how I said Jack is gay. I thought it was obvious. I'm sorry."

"What? No! Don't be!" Alfred turns in his seat to face Arthur, who refuses to look at him. "Arthur, if it bothers me, I'll tell you, trust me. But I think it's cool! It's almost like a game, y'know?"

"... How so?" Arthur asks, glancing up at him and raising an eyebrow. He'd never thought of it like that.

"Well, like… You make the prediction, and then we watch the movie to see if they do what you thought they would, and you either get the satisfaction of being right, or the surprise and delight because they did something outside the norm." Alfred smiles at him, and slowly Arthur smiles back.

"Yes, I… suppose that would be rather fun."

Alfred grins his famous, wide, foolish grin, and turns back to watch the movie, but Arthur keeps looking at him. He watches as Alfred eats handfuls of popcorn and reacts to the movie. He tries to notice all the small things about Alfred but he can't. He can notice every small detail in a movie, can know the exact _time stamp_ in a movie of when the main couple is going to finally get together, he can figure out lines before the character even says them, but… he's so distracted by how much his stomach is fluttering that he can't focus. He can't focus on Alfred, and so of course he can't focus for the rest of the movie. No one had ever paid that much attention to him, to notice such small details. He kept his lovesick side to himself, because whenever he revealed that he loved rom coms, that he loved the happy ending, and, hell, that he loved the cheesy, overdone Christmas stories, they'd always make fun of him. They'd be surprised that someone as proper as Arthur would willingly watch something so silly, so romantic, so hopeful, especially when he usually is so cynical about love. Then they would tell everyone around them, let them in on this "secret", and they would all collectively laugh about it. Arthur was always made to be a joke because he rarely defied expectations. Whether it was someone he was dating, someone he just met, or someone in his own damn family, everyone expected him to be a grump who hates everything, because that's the reputation he's built for himself. Arthur was such a by-the-book person that any time he did something unexpected, people judged him, usually mocked him for subverting their expectations.

But… _he_ didn't.

Alfred didn't judge him. He didn't laugh in his face or even snicker. He was surprised, sure, he even joked with him when he could tell that he was embarrassed. But he didn't make fun of him. He just smiled at Arthur and turned back to watch the movie.

He was… different, that Alfred. That's for sure.

"Ha! He just checked that guy out!" Alfred shouts after a little while. "You were right. Jack's _totally_ gay." He turns to grin at Arthur, but finds him already looking at him. "What? Do I have something in my teeth?" He asks, reaching up with his tongue to fish out whatever was making Arthur stare at him. The brit chuckles and shakes his head, turning back to watch the movie.

* * *

A while later, another cheesy romantic comedy is beginning on the big screen as Arthur returns from his trip to the bathroom. He sits down beside Alfred and crosses his legs, leaning over to murmur to him.

"What did I miss?"

"Main character's name is Sarah. She works in New York, but is visiting her hometown for Christmas." He turns to Arthur with a grin. "So, what do you think is going to happen?"

"What? I haven't even seen a minute of the movie yet."

"Yeah, but, you're the expert here, aren't'cha?" Alfred raises an eyebrow at him. "Or… do you think you can't predict what's gonna happen?" The brit narrows his eyes at him.

"Of course I _can_ , but give me a few minutes." Alfred laughs at Arthur's sudden pride about a skill he was so embarrassed about before, then turns back to watch the scenes unfolding in front of them. For a few minutes, they sit in silence; Alfred turns to look at Arthur after a moment and holds back a snort as he sees the other man's eyes narrowed, darting back and forth, analyzing every single movement and gesture between each character on the screen. He presses his lips in a thin line, thinking hard, before he nods and relaxes.

"Okay, Sarah had fallen in love with Steve, the town's residential baker, when they were teenagers, but she moved on to become the CEO of her company as soon as she could, so, obviously, these two are going to fall in love by the end of the movie. Steve is going to remind her what Christmas really means and she'll remember why she loved him so much. She'll dump her boyfriend, and move back to her hometown to become the manager of Steve's bakery."

"What, no Santa?" Alfred asks, grinning at Arthur, amazed.

"No, no, there will be Santa. There's always Santa." Alfred laughs and nods, turning back to watch the movie; sure enough, about five minutes later, it becomes incredibly obvious that Sarah was still in love with Steve and they share multiple intimate moments before the actual plot of the movie actually picks up. Alfred shakes his head, shocked that Arthur was able to guess what was going to happen so early in the film.

"Wow, Artie!" Arthur turns to him, eyebrows furrowed. "That's amazing!"

"What? Guessing what will happen?"

"Well, I mean, when you put it like that, it doesn't sound so cool, but… yeah! You're guessing what's going to happen within, like, two seconds of the movie!"

"Five minutes, actually."

"Whatever!" Alfred throws up his hands, exasperated. "How do you do it?" Arthur hums thoughtfully.

"There's always… a set of tropes that movies use. These romantic comedies are no different. I do this at home, a lot. I watch a lot of movies, not just Hallmark movies, mind you. Even action movies are easy to predict when you pay enough attention." Alfred shakes his head, chuckling.

"Wow."

"Oh, shut it. It's not that-"

"Yeah-huh! Artie, I've seen my fair share of these movies and I can't predict to that detail. Sure, I can guess that it'll be a happy ending and Santa will be in there somewhere, but, you've got down exactly what's going to happen within the context of this plot. It's… amazing." Arthur turns away with a small smile that turns into a proud smirk and he nods, sitting up straighter, prouder.

"Yes, I suppose it is." Alfred grins, happy that he was able to bring out the other man's confident side.

Quietly, the two put their attention back on the movie. Over the next hour, Alfred smacks Arthur's arm every time something he predicted becomes true. Sarah helps Steve to bake cookies and breads and other treats for the town's festival and remembers what drew her to him in the first place. She realizes she loves him on her way to the airport and misses an important flight back just to profess her love - and, of course, at the end of the movie, Santa, who was secretly the town's resident old man who gives wise, sage advice, flies overhead and shouts a hearty "ho-ho-ho!". Alfred grins at Arthur as the credits roll.

"You got _everything_ right."

"Yes, well…" He starts to dismiss Alfred's praise, but pauses and thinks for a moment. Why _was_ he always dismissing praise? "Yes, I did." He starts, smiling over at Alfred; it quickly vanishes when Alfred smirks over at him. "Don't. Don't brag. It's taken me long enough to get here, Alfred.." Alfred smiles mischievously, then turns towards the screen again with a shrug and watches as the last movie starts after the credits.

* * *

" _John, they need our help. We have to do this festival."_

" _It feels like all you care about now is this stupid festival, Sharon. What about me? What about us?"_

" _Stupid? This festival is important to me. And what about these_ orphans _John? Not everything is about you!"_

Arthur lets out a snort and takes a sip of his drink.

The last movie was almost over, and they'd remained silent almost the entire time; when it started, Alfred had bet Arthur twenty bucks that he could predict what the movie was better than Arthur. The brit, now perfectly content and confident in his skills, accepted the bet, knowing he'd easily win. And, now almost through with the movie, Arthur sat confidently in his chair, legs crossed and a smirk on his face. Alfred was just happy the other man was having a good time, even if it meant he lost a silly bet. At least, he'd be okay with losing _this_ bet.

So the two sat in silence, eagerly drinking in the movie, focused entirely on the screen and finally not on each other, afraid they'd miss a detail that meant the other man lost the bet. Alfred was excited with the possibility of winning the bet, but he knew how well Arthur could predict these movies, so he knew he'd probably lose; so instead he'd kept silent and enjoyed the noises and faces the other made while watching the movie; every time something predictable happened, he smirked, looking smug because he'd been proven right, and this was his response to being correct. When a line was delivered poorly, or when the line was written poorly, Arthur would snort and make a small comment about it, making fun of the poor writing or poor acting. Alfred loved seeing him so expressive, and he loved seeing him so confident in himself and his abilities. It was something so out of the ordinary for Arthur and Alfred was so happy he was the one to see it. He was extremely happy that Arthur had learned to trust him enough to let him see it.

"Ha!" Alfred jumps at the other's sudden outburst, watching as Arthur throws his hands in the air, popcorn that was in his hand flying out of his fists and then landing on their heads. "I knew it!" For a second, Arthur grins at the screen, then realizes he's in public and said that… rather loudly. He clears his throat and, with a blush, returns to his normally quiet and reserved stance. "The… John is, um... Y'know, a jerk..." He murmurs. He feels Alfred's eyes on him but he refuses to meet them. After a moment, Alfred reaches over and brushes the popcorn kernels off of Arthur's head, making him blush.

"Thank you."

"No prop, Bob." He mumbles. With a small smile, he turns back to the movie.

In all honesty, Alfred wants nothing more than to encourage Arthur to be this expressive, to shout in the empty theater with reckless abandon, as he had done not a two hours before. He wanted Arthur to be able to have fun without worrying what others were thinking of him. He wanted Arthur to be confident in himself all the time. He wanted Arthur to be himself, not who he thought he had to be to keep up his reputation. He liked when Arthur was reserved and demure, sure - it was easy to tease him and make him blush, and he enjoyed that part of him. But he liked it better when Arthur was smirking and cocky and sure of himself so much better. It was kind of… attractive.

Alfred blushes at his thoughts and quickly returns his attention to the movie. He's suddenly kind of glad the movie theater is so dark.

* * *

Alfred pulls up in front of Arthur's car and parks. He turns down the Christmas music and grins.

"So…" Alfred starts. "Didja have fun _tonight_?" Arthur turns to Alfred, leveling his eyes at him, determining the repercussions if he were to tell him the truth. He'd never hear the end of it if he told him he'd had fun. But… he also enjoyed himself a lot, and, for once, and he didn't want to lie to Alfred.

"If I tell you that I did, do you promise not to brag about it and rub it in my face for the next six weeks?" The other man pretends to look shocked, placing his hand on his chest and gasping at the smaller man.

"What? Li'l ol' me?" Alfred packs on the southern accent and Arthur rolls his eyes. "Brag about how I made you have fun? _Impossible_! Un _heard_ of!" Arthur groans and shoves his shoulder, unbuckling and getting out of the truck.

"Oh, shut it."

"Can I take that as a yes?" Alfred asks. Arthur responds by just shutting the door and heading to his own car to go home. "I'm taking that as a yes, you old Scrooge!" He shouts out of the window; Arthur turns to shout something back at him, but Alfred quickly presses on the gas and drives away.

"Bloody imbecile…" Arthur murmurs as he opens his car and gets inside.

Try as he may, he can't help the smile that spreads across his cheeks.

* * *

 _Those are real movies. Totally real movies. Probably. Maybe._

 _Please leave reviews, they make me really happy and fill me with writing fuel! 3 3 3_


	4. The Chipmunk Song

Saturday evening, Arthur is relaxing in his living room with a good book and a large cup of tea when he receives a phone call. He grumbles, pulling it out of his pocket with an annoyed face, before he realizes it's Alfred. Suppressing a pleased smile, he sets down the book and answers with a sigh.

"What do you want, Alfred?"

"Hey!" Alfred calls out loudly. Arthur pulls the phone away from his ear with a grimace. "Hey, um, hey, are you busy?" He asks, shouting so he can be heard above the crowd.

"Well, yes, actually, I was just beginning to enjoy my tea and-"

"Great, I'll pick you up in ten minutes!"

"Wait, Alfred-"

"Bye Artie!"

Arthur sighs deeply as the line goes dead and leans back in his chair. He closes his phone and looks up at the ceiling.

"Why me?" He asks no one in particular; when he doesn't receive a response, he sighs and stands up, drinking from his tea as he heads up to his room. Quickly, he changes out of his sweatpants and sweatshirt and dons a warm, appropriate-for-public sweater and dress pants, then goes back downstairs to wait for Alfred.

Fortunately, he does not have to wait long, as Alfred is already sitting in his truck outside of Arthur's house, honking the horn impatiently. Arthur groans and quickly pulls on his shoes and jacket, before he grabs his keys and leaves.

"Alright, alright!" He shouts as he runs down the driveway to jump into Alfred's truck. "God, do you always have to be _so loud_?"

"Yep! It's my failsafe way of getting you to do what I want." Alfred answers with a grin, before quickly pulling away from the curb.

"I would have come out regardless, you git."

"You would have?" He asks, surprised, turning to the other man with his eyebrows raised. Arthur stammers and shrugs.

"W-well, would I have had any other choice?" He mutters, crossing his arms. Alfred laughs.

"Nope!" He grins at him, and Arthur sighs.

"What was so urgent that you raced over to my house to kidnap me for?"

"Hey, it's not kidnapping if you willingly get into my car."

"I don't think that's true, Alfred."

"Well, whatever. We're going shopping." Alfred turns on the radio, but Arthur quickly slaps it off.

" _Shopping_? On a Saturday in December?" When Alfred nods, Arthur scoffs. "And _why_ is that? And why do I have to come with?"

"It's fun!" Alfred grins, but slowly it drops and he looks over at Arthur sheepishly. "And… I… kinda… forgot to shop for my family."

"What? How on Earth did you do that? It's all you've been talking about for weeks, now. I thought you do your shopping months ago."

"I do! I, well… I usually do. I've just been… busy with… other projects," Alfred says slowly, as if he's really thinking about his words before he says them. Arthur narrows his eyes, about to ask Alfred what he means, but the other quickly starts talking and cuts him off. "But anyway! I figured this would be fun! I need help, plus I'm making you love Christmas again, so, y'know, two birds with one stone!"

"So _I_ must suffer because _you_ got behind on your Christmas shopping?"

"Yup!"

Arthur sighs and leans back, closing his eyes. All he wanted was to relax at home, but no. Alfred had to kidnap him - he'd argue this until he died, no matter what Alfred said - and take him shopping during the holiday season, the one thing that Arthur hated more than anything about the holidays. The shops were busy, the children were screaming non stop, the lines were long, and it was just… not worth it. Not when he could just buy all his presents online, if he so chose.

Within a few minutes, Arthur jumps out of Alfred's truck and follows him into the ever-busy mall. He tries to keep close to Alfred, but the other man is much taller than him, not to mention he's on a mission and is walking faster than normal. He reaches out and grabs Alfred's jacket, pulling him to a stop with a glare..

"You need to slow down." Arthur shouts above the loud crowd.

"Sorry, man!" Alfred laughs and offers his arm for Arthur to take. When he refuses, Al shrugs his shoulders, then continues walking - but Arthur quickly gets lost in the crowd once more. When he finds Alfred again, he reaches out and grabs his arm with a blush. Alfred smiles, but says nothing, and enters his first store. He pauses near the entrance, taking a look around, and smiling politely at the workers who ask if he needs help finding anything. He shakes his head, then puts his hands in his pockets as he hums, watching all the people quickly zipping back and forth around them, searching for their own presents.

"So, what are you looking to buy?"

"Well, Matt and I are going in on a new cookware set for my mom. My dad wants a new radio for his car, and I'm getting Matt… Uh… Something hockey related. And I need to get a bunch of kiddie gifts for my cousins and stuff. Like, y'know, barbies, or whatever kids are playing with these days." He pauses to look at some dishes that catch his interest, but turns away.

"You don't even know what you're getting everyone?"

"Well, no. That's part of the fun!"

"What fun is there in shopping in a busy mall?"

"Let's see…" Alfred turns around and watches the people around them as they desperately try to get exactly what each family member wants. "People watching."

"Yes, I'm sure that's so fun while people are stumbling around you and calling you names for standing in the way," Arthur responds as he is pushed closer to Alfred by another customer. He blushes and huffs, crossing his arms as he stands next to the other man. He doesn't move away.

"Window shopping is fun anyway! I love walking around just looking for the perfect present, y'know? When you finally find one, you just, like, know, and you just know that the other person is gonna love it, so you've gotta get it! And hopefully they still have what you want and it's such a rush when they do, and you get the perfect present!" He turns to Arthur with a wide smile, thinking fondly of his past Christmases. "Once, when I was younger, my brother really, really wanted these new, expensive ice skates, but he couldn't afford them. He didn't tell our parents, because, in all honesty, he doesn't like asking them for things; he thinks they gave him such a great childhood and everything that he doesn't deserve to ask for more, even if it's for Christmas." Arthur listens intently, straining to hear him well over the crowds surrounding them. He inches closer, looking around the busy mall, at the children running by them, at the poor workers struggling to check people out; anywhere but at Alfred.

"I overheard him talking to someone on the phone, telling them that he wanted to buy these new skates, but he couldn't afford them, so I instantly knew I was gonna get them for him for Christmas. I enlisted our entire family, got the skates, and then left them for him outside his room on Christmas eve," Alfred's smile grows smaller, but not any less happier. "He was… _so_ happy, when he opened it on Christmas day. Man, I'll never forget the noises he made when he opened it, and the dumbfounded look on his face when he tried to figure out who got him the present, since he didn't technically _tell_ any of us. He was _so_ fuckin' happy, he didn't stop smiling for like, weeks afterwards, and he wanted to put them on and go skating right away. It was the best Christmas ever, honestly." Arthur remains silent, continuing to watch the commotion around them thoughtfully. Alfred glances around the store and finally spots what he wanted to get his mother. Arthur quickly follows him, still silent, as he takes off to grab it. A part of him was amazed Alfred could be so selfless, but part of him had come to expect nothing less of Alfred. It was like he was a guardian angel for everyone in his life, from all the stories he had told him. What _couldn't_ Alfred do?

"Yes!" Alfred says as he picks up the cookware set and holds it close. "Alright, let's check out." Quickly, Arthur follows him to the counter, where they wait in line for a few moments.

"What about a Christmas when _you_ got a present you really wanted?" He asks the taller man, who hums in thought.

"Well, yeah. I've had plenty of those. I got a signed football once. Oh, one year my dad took us all to Florida to go to Disney! That was great… But, y'know, our parents are super, super generous, and always love making us happy, so like, every Christmas was like that for me, honestly."

"Why don't you ever talk about those Christmases?" Arthur asks, a bit miffed that Al would just talk about all the things that make him seem selfless.

"Well, because I like the other stories better!" He says simply, and the brit huffs. He just had an answer for everything, didn't he?

Surprisingly, the line moves quickly, and before they know it they're walking out of the store. Arthur silently commends the skilled cashiers.

"Alright, so, electronics… Let's see if Radio Shack has that radio my dad wants." Alfred turns and lets go of Arthur, starting to walk down a different wing of the mall; Arthur grabs his arm and almost jogs to keep up with his fast pace. They walk a few feet towards the radio shack, when all of a sudden Alfred stops and stares into the window of a store. Arthur, who'd kept walking a few feet, stops and quickly turns around, frowning.

"What?"

"That. I need that."

"You need what?"

"That-that poster. For Matty. Oh, man, okay, come on!" Alfred shouts as he all but runs into the store. Arthur follows him into the store with a groan; this man was going to be the death of him.

Quickly, Alfred moves to the Jersey on display in the window. He grins over at Arthur.

"Matthew said this is his favorite hockey player and he'd die if he ever got anything with them on it, so I've gotta get it!" He quickly walks up to the store clerk, who is boredly checking his facebook feed on his phone. "Hey! Uh, do you have any more of the poster in the window?" The clerk glances up and shakes his head.

"Nope. All's we got is the poster with the frame."

"Oh! Well… can I buy that one?"

"Sure. Be my guest." He says flatly, clearly uninterested in this exchange. Alfred grins and turns away, going to retrieve the poster and frame from the window.

"Aw man, I'm so fuckin' glad they have-" He glances at the price tag as he starts to lift it up and frowns, stepping away. "Ah, uh, I'll find something else."

"What?" Arthur asks. Alfred shakes his head and starts to walk out of the store, dejected, and the brit frowns; he steps up to check the price tag. _Oof…_ A bit pricey for a present, but… Arthur didn't buy presents for anyone, plus he'll get a bonus from the bank soon. And at any rate, Alfred looked so sad, and he was just telling Arthur about how happy he is when he finds the perfect present… He glances over at Alfred again, and sees him waiting patiently by the entrance to the store, hands in his pockets as he watches people walk past him. Chewing his lip, Arthur quickly pulls the price tag off the frame, before bringing it to the counter. Somewhat impatiently, Arthur waits for the clerk to ring it up and pays, then grabs the frame as he exits the store to meet up with Alfred again.

"Here," He says, presenting the frame with the poster to Alfred, who looks at him quizzically. He slowly takes it from the other man with a small frown.

"You-Artie, you didn't have to buy it for me, really, it's-"

"Nonsense."

"Arthur, this was really expensive… Seriously, we-we can return it, it's okay-"

"No!" Arthur stands in the way of him when he tries to return into the store to bring it back. He clears his throat and readjusts his shirt, standing straight. "I… I wanted to buy it for you. To give to Matthew. You said he would love it, right?" Silently, Alfred nods. "Then take it. Consider it my Christmas present for you. Ah, and, don't worry about giving me credit for it; I simply provided financial support for you. The present was your idea, so..." Alfred considers this for a moment, looking back and forth between the price tag and Arthur, before he rushes forward and wraps his arms around him in a tight hug.

"Thank you, Arthur! Thank you so much! He is gonna be _so_ happy, Artie, he-" Pulling away with a light blush, Alfred laughs nervously. "Sorry. He really _is_ going to love this, though. I'll make it up to you."

"There's no need," Arthur says, waving his hand dismissively, acting as nonchalant as he can, though his cheeks are a bright pink. "I just… didn't like seeing you so sad." He instantly regrets the fact that he admitted that out loud to him, praying to whatever God there might be that he could take it back, that he could wipe it from-

"What? I couldn't hear you." Alfred had leaned in closer with a small, apologetic smile. Arthur feels a wave of relief and shakes his head.

"Nothing, nothing, it was nothing. Where else did you need to go today?"

"Oh! A few places, actually, but let's bring this to the car first. C'mon!" He turns away and starts walking to the entrance they'd come in through, just as fast as he'd been when they came in. Arthur groans, yelling after him to slow down, but the taller man doesn't hear him.

* * *

Two hours later, Arthur helps Alfred carry the thousands of shopping bags that Alfred had procured to his truck. They'd been to Build-a-Bear, the attached department store, Hot Topic, and loads of other stores he didn't remember the name of, just getting small presents for Alfred's cousins and other younger family members. They load the truck bed together while Alfred sings along to the Christmas music they could still hear coming from the mall, and Arthur resists the urge to roll his eyes. He waits patiently while Alfred closes the truck bed, dancing to the music the entire time. Arthur watches him, curiously, until he turns around to smile at him.

"How on Earth are you so happy all the time?" He asks, crossing his arms, watching as he continues to bounce to the rhythm of Jingle Bell Rock.

"It's hard not to during Christmas time, dude!" He grins and closes the truck bed, before turning around and dancing a bit more. "C'mon, Art! You gotta admit this was fun, right?" Arthur thinks back to the shocked look on Alfred's face when he presented the jersey meant for Matthew and feels as though his cold heart warms just a little bit more. He smiles slightly and nods. He'd given into Alfred's demands more and more lately, so admitting that he had fun shopping with Alfred was a small drop in the bucket, at this point.

"I… suppose it was... rather fun to buy toys for your cousins." He relents. Alfred grins widely at Arthur, possibly wider than he's ever smiled, then turns and gets into his truck. Arthur follows suit, buckling quickly as Alfred peels out of the parking lot.

"Alrighty, time to get home to wrap the presents-"

"After bringing me home, of course." Alfred turns to pout at Arthur. "... Right?"

"No, Artie! You gotta help me!"

"Excuse me?"

"We _have_ to wrap the presents, Artie. That's part of the Christmas experience!" Arthur groans.

"But… couldn't we do it another day?" He can't help but whine a bit. "I'm exhausted, Alfred. You made me carry ten bags of dolls for _your_ family!" The other man offers a small smile and turns on the car.

"I promise that I'll bring you home after we wrap all these presents, but it'll go by super fast if we're both working together. Please, Artie? It's so much more fun with two people!"

"I don't see how trying to fold paper while giving yourself a thousand paper cuts can be fun, even with two people-"

"Artieeee!" Alfred whines, so Arthur groans.

"Fine."

"Great! Because we're already here." Alfred says, quickly getting out of the truck and heading to the back to grab the presents. Rolling his eyes, Arthur climbs out and follows him. He grabs a few bags full of presents along with Alfred - though, significantly less - and carries them up the few flights to Alfred's apartment. He sets them down outside the door while Alfred unlocks the door, then brings them in a few bags at a time, before looking around the small, cozy apartment with a surprised smile. He'd expected the brash American's home to be messy and full of odd bits of decor, but instead, he finds a neat home with clean counters and floors, books and video games on the shelves by the television, and pots with fake flowers on a few surfaces. There's garland along the edges of the ceiling and a lit Christmas tree in the corner of the room, but other than that the Christmas decorations are rather subtle. The only thing out of place are blankets - christmas blankets, of course - that are strewn across the couch and loveseat and a few on the floor. Alfred quickly picks up the blankets and folds them neatly, before placing them on a shelf near the TV.

"This is… a nice flat, Alfred." He says, slowly stepping into the apartment with a pleasantly pleased smile. The other man turns to look at him, raising an eyebrow.

"You sound surprised."

"I am." He says without thinking, then quickly tries to correct his words. "W-well, I-I mean, I am, but, just-just because I-I never thought-"

"It's okay," Alfred says with a laugh. "My family is always surprised when they come over too, even after all these years. I _used_ to be messy, trust me." He starts setting up the living room for their wrapping duties, laying out wrapping paper and tape and scissors, before making a pile of presents for Arthur, then another pile for Alfred.

"So I don't care what wrapping paper you use, but just make sure you know who it's for," Before Arthur can interject, saying that he wouldn't know who they're for, Alfred adds, "I will tell you which present you grab is for who, don't worry."

Arthur nods and takes the first present, moving to sit on the floor between the couch and the loveseat; he starts wrapping while Alfred ventures into the kitchen and makes some commotion with mugs and spices and chocolate. Arthur looks behind him and frowns.

"What are you doing? You didn't just bring me here to do all the hard work, did you?"

"No!" Al laughs, peeking over at him from the kitchen. "I'm gonna help! But I always wrap presents with hot cocoa." He smiles at Arthur while he waits for the drinks to be ready. Arthur turns back to the presents with a roll of his eyes; a few minutes later, Alfred re-enters the living room and lowers a mug of hot cocoa down to Arthur while he sits on the floor. Arthur looks up at him, frowning.

"I don't like hot cocoa." He says. Alfred sits down next to him and pushes the mug closer to him.

"You'll like mine." He smiles somewhat cockily, sitting down beside him, while Arthur narrows his eyes.

"Why?"

"You just will! Trust me." Arthur hums, looking over at the eager man with suspicious eyes, before he smirks slyly, deciding to tease the other man.

"Why should I trust you? You're a _strange_ man who brought me to his _strange_ apartment in a _strange_ part of the city, offering me a _strange_ drink." He crosses his arms. "How do I know these past five years haven't been a ploy to do just this, just to drug me in your own-"

" _Arthur_." Alfred says flatly, looking at him with a roll of his eyes. "Just drink the damn cocoa." Arthur huffs, taking the warm mug from Alfred. He pauses as Alfred watches him expectantly, impatiently, and slowly brings the drink to his mouth. He blows slowly, trying to drag out the process and make Alfred squirm as he waits for Arthur's analysis of the drink. He fans the drink towards him, trying to smell the hot cocoa, and Alfred groans.

"Arthurrrrr!" He whines, fidgeting and pouting, making the other man laugh. Slowly, so as to make sure he doesn't burn himself, he takes a sip and his eyes widen. The hot chocolate was a decadent, rich chocolate but it also had… what was that… _Did he make this with eggnog?_ No, he couldn't possibly have, but, _Lord,_ it was delicious.

"Alfred…" Alfred fidgets as he waits for the other man's judgement. "This is _amazing_."

"Yes!" He pumps his fists victoriously, laughing. "I told you you would like it!"

"What is this? Is there eggnog in here? How did you-"

"Ah-ah! Secret family recipe," Alfred winks at him, before scooching over to get started on his own present wrapping. He takes a sip of the cocoa and gets to work, while Arthur stares, mesmerized at the drink, and takes longer sips, savoring the delicious flavor. He sits like this for a minute or two, before Alfred realizes that the other man had been silent for a while, looking up to see if something was wrong.

"Art? You uh… you gonna help, or did I bring you here just to drink all of my hot cocoa?" Arthur blinks as if he was just brought out of a trance, then nods and sets his cocoa down - he'd finished already, anyway. He joins Alfred in wrapping several presents; the first wrapping paper he chooses has adorable, fat santas all over it, and Arthur has to hold back a chuckle. Of _course_ Alfred would pick this. He wraps two presents in the santa paper, before he grabs more and wraps it in paper with cartoonish string lights on it. They work diligently, quietly, until Alfred realizes it's just a bit too quiet. He jumps up, grabs some of the presents to move them and make room, then smiles at Arthur.

"Let's get some music going."

He walks over to a small stereo and turns it on, fighting with the static before he reaches a station that's solely playing Christmas music. Arthur looks up and makes a face at Alfred, who had turned back to grin at him. He sways side to side, snapping his fingers, and makes his way back to Arthur. He keeps swaying his hips to the music, and holds his hand out to the other man.

"... What?" Arthur asks, taping down the last piece on the present he was wrapping.

"Let's dance."

"What?" Arthur turns away from Alfred and writes the name of the recipient on a tag, before he places it on the present and adds it to the small pile he'd made.

"You said you hate Christmas music, too, right?" Alfred quickly runs back to the radio and turns it up. "Maybe I can change your mind about that, too." He returns, and holds his hand out to Arthur again.

"Absolutely not." Arthur says, grabbing another present. Alfred lightly kicks it away, not enough to damage it but enough to get it out of Arthur's reach, still grinning widely. The brit scoffs, pulling a different present over, but Alfred kicks that one away too. This continues for three more presents before Arthur sighs loudly, glowering up at Alfred, whose hand is still extended toward him.

"... You're ridiculous."

"And persistent. C'mon." Alfred grins and beckons him up once more. As soon as Arthur stands up, he grabs his hand and pulls him close to his chest. The radio plays the soft, sultry tones of Bing Crosby singing Silver Bells, and Arthur blushes as Alfred holds one hand on his waist, another holding his hand as they sway back and forth in place. Arthur scowls at Alfred's chest, trying to will his blushing cheeks to return to normal.

"I don't understand how this is supposed to help me like Christmas music." He says. Alfred chuckles and shrugs.

"I dunno. Maybe it won't, but it's worth a try, don't'cha think?" He looks down at Arthur with a smile, and slowly, Arthur smiles, albeit slightly tiredly, back at him.

"Maybe." Alfred's smile grows wider and he lets go of Arthur's waist so he can twirl him around. Arthur makes a face. "Although, I usually lead when I dance."

"Hm, maybe if you grow a few inches taller, we could work that out," Alfred says with a teasing smirk. The smaller man glares at him, and Al just spins him again, making Arthur laugh a bit. They sway around Alfred's apartment, carefully stepping over the wrapping paper and presents, and eventually Arthur smiles happily again. Alfred's cheeks warm every time Arthur laughs, but instead of fighting it he just grins down at him, twirling him around and around his apartment. He couldn't believe the stuffy brit was letting him do this, but Arthur had surprised him this entire time. He was sure that Arthur would have insisted they drop the entire bet from the very first day, but he kept going with him. He kept meeting him where he asked. He kept doing everything that Alfred had asked, and Alfred had no idea why, really. He expeced Arthur to denounce their friendship when he kept getting embarrassed or overwhelmed in public, to yell at him and declare that he would never speak to him again, and Alfred would just have to accept defeat. But here he was, in his apartment, slow dancing with him to Christmas music, laughing and smiling and looking downright _beautif-_ happy. He looked incredibly happy. And Alfred was just happy he _was_ doing all this. He was trying to change, or at least, Alfred thought he was. Even if it was for the bet, Alfred liked to think that he was doing some of this for him.

The tune changes to a slightly faster one, and Alfred hums along for a moment. They dance in silence, save for the music and Alfred's humming along, for a few moments longer, and Arthur forgets just how tired he was. He had wanted nothing more than to escape the loud, crowded mall and return to his solitude, with a nice mug of tea and a warm blanket, but now, here, alone with Alfred, he… didn't want to go home just yet. Though the man was loud and brash and loved to tease him, he still felt okay with Alfred. Normally if he had a rough day with a lot of people, the introvert would snap if another person tried to be in his company too soon after, because he would be a bit overwhelmed. But even in the loud mall he felt better because he knew Alfred was there with him. It was an odd feeling for Arthur, one that caused him to blush and turn away to look at the falling snow outside for a moment. What had gotten into him?

Alfred spins Arthur again and breaks him from his thoughts. When he returns to face him, Arthur sees the familiar smile he'd grown so fond of and smiles, slightly smaller, back at him.

"So, why do you like Christmas music so much?" Arthur asks, genuinely curious.

"Hm… I guess part of it is probably nostalgia," He muses. "My family and I have always listened to Christmas music all throughout December. But it's also just fun! It's light and bouncy, or it's beautiful and slow and sultry. It just… reminds me of Christmas and makes me happy." The other man nods, and Alfred spins him again.

"You're going to make me sick, twirling me around after you gave me all that hot cocoa, you know." Arthur says with a chuckle, clutching Alfred's hand as he faces him again. Alfred shrugs.

"I'm not the one who forced you to chug it down that fast," He says simply, and Arthur laughs."Y'know, I really like your laugh. I've never really heard it before. It's a nice laugh." Arthur blushes and looks up at him for what feels like a long while, trying to come up with some sort of retort, something to play off his feelings and make the other man ignore his dark red cheeks, but he can't. No one's ever complimented his laugh before. He glances away and clears his throat.

"Thank you." He says quietly. Alfred nods, before he starts dancing a bit faster with him, taking both of his hands and pulling them back and forth to the beat of the music. He grins with Arthur and spins one more time.

"Just hear those sleigh bells ring-a-ling, ting ting ting-a-ling, too," He sings, pulling Arthur around his apartment with him, dancing and stepping to the beat. "Come on it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you!" He croons, singing to Arthur and smiling sweetly. Arthur blushes, yet again, and pulls his hands out of Alfred's with a small chuckle.

"C'mon, we should keep wrapping these presents," he says, sitting on the ground again. Alfred keeps singing along to the music, but sits down beside Arthur once more.

* * *

"I never thought that wrapping presents would be exhausting," Arthur says, leaning back on Alfred's couch after another half an hour of straight present wrapping. He surveys the pile of presents set neatly next to the decorated Christmas tree; he'd lost count of how many dolls and action figures and baby toys he'd wrapped, but he was proud of his and Alfred's work. He smiles, content.

"Thank you. For helping. And for showing me that you're not a _total_ grump," Alfred says with a sly smile. Arthur shoves his shoulder and stands up.

"Yes, well, you make it quite difficult, to be honest." He walks to the door and starts slipping on his shoes and jacket.

"Really?" Alfred asks, following him. "... Good to know." Arthur nods and wraps his scarf around his neck, preparing to leave; Alfred does the same, until Arthur stops him.

"Um, I'm actually just going to walk home," He buttons his coat while Alfred pauses with a frown.

"Oh, um… okay…" He says, a bit sadly, and Arthur rushes to correct his mistake.

"Oh, no, it's-it's nothing with you!" He reassures, then laughs a bit; he's nervous, all of a sudden. "Sorry, I just… It's nice out and… I need some air. It was a long day with a lot of people, you know?" Alfred nods, though his smile isn't nearly as big and bright as it usually is.

"Yeah." He says quietly, placing his jacket back up on the coat rack. He's worrying that maybe he pushed Arthur too far, even though he was laughing and smiling with him all night. Was Arthur mad at him? Did he want to get away from him as soon as possible? Man, he was going to have to make this up to him, big time, but... He opens the door for Arthur, then leans against it, waiting for Arthur to leave, but, he just stands there, looking contemplative for what feels like hours. He's about to ask what's wrong, when Arthur seems to jump up and kiss Alfred's cheek, then quickly stalks out of the apartment. All traces of sadness vanish off of Al's face, and he closes the door, but not before he hears Arthur humming along to the radio still playing inside his apartment.


	5. Santa Claus Is Comin' to Town

"Hey, you busy?" Alfred pokes his head into Arthur's office once again, and Arthur looks up from his computer. He takes a breath and shakes his head, rubbing his temples as he turns away from the screen. Alfred smiles and walks into his office, setting down a cup of tea. Arthur blinks, then smiles gratefully.

"You made me tea again?" Alfred nods.

"Yeah. I noticed it was kinda busy, so I figured you could use it," He pauses. "I can… take it back if you don't want it-"

"No!" Arthur grabs the mug and stammers. Alfred grins. "N-No, that's-that's quite alright. Thank you." He takes a sip and sighs, trying to relax.

"You okay-?"

"Can you believe some people?" He asks, cutting Alfred off. "It's almost Christmas and they are still so selfish and so self absorbed. We can only do so much, and it's just not enough for them. I just had to deal with four customers threatening to move to another bank just because they couldn't get their withdrawal within two minutes when it's _an hour before we close,_ and _three weeks before Christmas_!" Arthur hisses, setting his head on the desk. Alfred smiles sympathetically.

"I know. I had to escort one of them out," He says, patting Arthur's arm. The other man nods.

"Yes, thank you for that." Alfred falls silent, unsure of anything he could say to help. He was right, after all; these people _were_ being selfish and self-absorbed. Half of them just didn't care that there were other people trying to buy presents for _their_ family. It didn't matter what anyone else wanted, it was all about them. He couldn't disagree with Arthur, because he was absolutely right. He also didn't want to discredit the people who _weren't_ like that, but even if he tried to argue that, Arthur would never listen. So how could he possibly even start to convince Arthur of this?

Suddenly, Alfred has an idea.

"Hey, your shift is almost over, right?" Arthur nods. "Okay, I have an idea. I'm off in an hour, and I have a thing I need to do, and you should join me."

"What is this 'thing'?" Arthur asks, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. Alfred shakes his head and stands up.

"Nope! No questions! You know that one library in town, where they host book and bake sales every summer?" When Arthur nods, he grins. "Great! Meet me there at the end of your shift!" He hops out of Arthur's office before he can say anything more, and just like he appeared, he's gone. Arthur rolls his eyes, then turns back to his computer, holding the mug of tea closely with a small smile.

* * *

 _Alright, I'm here. Where are you?_ Arthur texts Alfred quickly, standing awkwardly at the library's entrance. He usually loved the library, but this visit was not anything like his others; there were small children everywhere, shouting and giggling, shoving each other as they entered the lobby area, holding tightly to their mother's hand while whining about wanting to go home. Why on Earth did Alfred tell him to meet him there? He jumps to the side to avoid being crashed into by a family barreling into library's entrance, children screaming and giggling the whole way. Arthur makes a face, then takes a breath to calm down.

His phone buzzes and snaps him out of his trance.

 _Wait right there! I'm gonna have someone come to get you! I'm caught up in something at the moment, but don't worry, you'll be able to tell who's looking for you! ;)_

Arthur chuckles at the thousand exclamation points and the emoticon face he'd added, then leans against the wall next to the library's front doors, waiting for whoever it was that was going to bring him to Alfred. Whatever Alfred was planning, Arthur wasn't sure, and he was beginning to feel a bit out of place. Among all these families walking into the library, he just seemed like a weird, childless grown man, just watching these families head inside for whatever reason, and he began to feel tense and insecure. They all seemed to be looking at him. Why were they all looking at him? God, where was Alfred?

He goes to text Alfred once more, then considers just leaving for a moment, then sighs. He trusted Alfred, he really did. But… where the hell was he? Did he send him here just… for fun? To make fun of him later? Was this a prank? Why was he sending someone else to get him?

"You Arthur?" A voice breaks him out of his potential anxiety attack and he jumps. He nods, frowning at the person in front of him. They were dressed up as an Elf. Why were they dressed up as an elf? "Great. Follow me." The other person says flatly, swiftly turning on their elf-shoe-heel and walking quickly into the library. Arthur watches for a moment as the elf walks in before he stumbles to catch up. He follows the other person through shelves and shelves of books, to a back room within the library, wading through what seems to be a thousand children and their parents, before he reaches a closed off room with a couple other elves. He glances around for Alfred, still frowning. What the hell was he doing here?

"Ho ho ho, hello there, young man!" A familiar voice calls out behind him, and he feels relief flood his body. Then there's a hand on his shoulder, spinning him around to see someone dressed up as Santa smiling down at him. He blinks.

"... _Alfred?_ " He asks incredulously. He would know those striking blue eyes anywhere.

"Ho ho ho, no! I'm _Santa_! You know, jolly old St. Nick! Ho ho ho!" Alfred laughs and shakes the stuffed belly attached to his torso. Arthur keeps staring.

"... Um…" He tries to come up with something to say, glancing around at the numerous elves staring at them. He decides to play along, for now. "Okay… _Santa_ … What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to visit the kids! Ho ho ho! The kids are gonna tell me what they want for Christmas, then we're gonna read some books to them! Ho ho ho!"

"Are you contractually obligated to laugh like that at the end of every sentence?" Arthur asks with a smirk and Alfred pouts.

"No!" He pauses. "Ho ho ho!" Arthur snorts.

"Okay, _Santa_ , that's… great and all. But I don't have any kids, nor am I one. So what am I doing here?"

"Well, one of our elves couldn't make it today. I thought you would love to help us out!" Alfred grins, breaking character, and gesturing to an extra elf costume hanging on a closet door. Arthur glances around the room and sees numerous adults in red and green outfits, wearing fake elf ears and makeup that makes them appear younger and cuter. He sees the jingly hat upon their head and turns back to Alfred with dread written all over his face.

"Oh no."

"Oh _yes_! C'mon! You're my right hand man!" Alfred pushes him towards a closet, handing him the outfit. "Get dressed! We have to start working in five minutes!"

"Alfred-!" Arthur gets cut off as the door is shut behind him and he frowns. He can't believe Alfred is doing this to him. A grown adult dressing up as some childish elf, with stupid freckles and a stupid jingly hat, and... Ugh. He would _not_ be a part of the Santa brigade. He was _not_ going to put on these tights and the stupid wool outfit and pretend to be a happy little helper elf. He would rather die than be seen doing this.

"Artie~" Alfred sing-songs. "Come on~! I'm not letting you out unless you're in that outfit~!"

"I'm not doing it, Alfred!" He shouts through the door, crossing his arms angrily. "I'm not dressing up as an imbecile for the entire town to see!"

"C'mon, Artie, it's not that many people, and they aren't even going to notice you. The parents are focused on their kids and the kids are focused on _Santa_. They won't care who the elves are." Arthur chews on his lip in thought. Alfred was right. They never would notice him. And even if they did, he'd be in costume, and they wouldn't be able to recognize him.

"Don't make me come in there and change you into an elf myself."

Arthur's cheeks burn at the thought, and he quickly unzips the dress bag.

After a few moments, he sighs, crossing his arms.

"Alright. I'm dressed." He says. Slowly, the door opens just a crack, and just as slowly, he steps out. He looks around and sees the rest of the elves have left, so at least there's that. He slowly looks up at Alfred, whose eyes have lit up like a little kid on Christmas day.

"Oh my _God,_ you look so _cute_!" Alfred whisper-shouts. Arthur's cheeks burn once more and he tries to step back into the closet and pull the door closed, but Alfred pulls it back open. Damn him and his stupid, obscene strength. "No, no, no, I'm sorry! Come on, we're only here for a few hours, and then you can change! I promise!"

" _How many hours_?" Arthur all but growls.

"Uh… it… usually takes about three hours..." Alfred smiles sheepishly. Arthur tries to shut himself away again, but the other man grabs his arm and pulls him out, then walks with him towards the door that leads back into the library. He struggles for a second, but gives up eventually and walks with Alfred, though he crosses his arms and glares at the back of Alfred's- er, _Santa's_ head the entire way. He wasn't getting out of this any time soon, he was sure.

They walk out to the kids, who all start cheering and screaming as soon as they see Santa. They fidget and jump up and down and wave their arms, and Arthur prays to God that Alfred is right and they aren't even paying attention to him. Even so, he tries to keep his head down. He can't believe he's doing this. He can't believe he's dressed up as an _elf_ while walking through a sea of children. He has a respectable job at a bank. He's the manager of several people at his bank. He's been employee of the month for several months now. He is a grown _adult_ and here he is, doing the most childish thing he's done since he was… well, a child.

"I can't believe you're making me do this," Arthur says as quietly as the loud children can allow him to be, standing next to Alfred as he waves happily to the children. "I can't believe I'm allowing you to make me do this… I don't see how forcing me to do things I don't want to do will make me like Christmas. Really, Alfred, what is the point of this?" Arthur frowns at Alfred, who just smiles through the fake beard and doesn't answer him. He grins at the children and waves back at them, before nudging Arthur softly with his elbow. With a huff, Arthur turns away from Alfred, arms still folded across his chest. He tries to fold in on himself to try and keep other people from seeing him, but it's not much use. He's not in a bulky winter jacket. He's not in any inconspicuous clothing, he's wearing bright red and green and his hat and "shoes" jingle relentlessly as he walks.

Eventually, they make their way to the display where Santa sits. Instead of walking right towards the chair, Alfred walks up to the children and smiles at them, shaking their hands or rustling their hair. _The children almost idolize him_ , Arthur thinks, waiting for Alfred to tell him what to do. It's a bit amazing, to be honest, how much these children love Santa. It's a bit… endearing, Arthur has to admit. Slowly, Alfred makes his way towards the chair designated for Santa and he turns to Arthur.

"Okay, so what I want you to do is take one kid from the line at a time and bring them to me, then you're going to stand here while I listen to what they want for Christmas and then be a part of the pictures that we take for the parents."

"I'm going to be in _pictures_?" Arthur whispers, frowning at Alfred. He glances over at the children and groans. "In _all their pictures?_ Trapped forever, dressed as a ridiculous elf in these family's precious memories?" Alfred shrugs.

"Not necessarily. Most of the time parents focus on me and their child, but sometimes parents want the full picture. So smile pretty!" Alfred grins, then takes his seat at Santa's throne. Arthur closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. _Alright. I guess Alfred just wants me to die of embarrassment, then._

"Ho ho ho!" Alfred does the famous Santa laugh loudly enough for the children to hear. "Welcome everyone! Have you all been very good this year?" The children loudly respond and Alfred laughs again. "Fan _tas_ tic!"

"Now," He continues, looking around at all the children. "My friend here has been a bit gloomy lately." He says with a pout, and all the children collectively 'aw'. "So, when you guys come up here, I'd like for you to tell him just exactly what _you_ love about Christmas!" The children respond in a choir of 'okay, Santa!'s and Alfred laughs. He gestures for Arthur to begin escorting the children to him and Arthur takes another breath. He puts on a pleasant smile, one he's so used to wearing while working anyway, and walks over to the velvet rope keeping the children and their families in a neat line. The elves standing next to it unchain the rope and Arthur takes the hand of the two children eagerly waiting to sit on Santa's lap. While leading them both to Alfred, they eagerly recount their favorite things about Christmas.

"My mommy makes me a new pajamas and I get to stay in it all day on Christmas!" One of them says, lisping through their braces and staring up at Arthur, who smiles down at them.

"Oh, oh, my mommy and daddy take us to get a tree and then we put popcorn on the tree and I get to stay up really late and eat popcorn and drink hot chocolate and then when I go to school-"

"Ho ho ho!" Alfred says, lifting the rambling child onto his knee. "Aren't you talkative?" Arthur smiles, a real, genuine smile this time, and watches as Alfred asks them what they want for Christmas, hands on each of their shoulders. The children start listing off item after item, each getting new ideas from each other, as the parents look on fondly. They take a few pictures, and Arthur remembers to smile once more. He stands with his hands behind his back at Alfred's left, watching as Alfred deals with both children like an expert. He tells the children he will do his best to get them the items off their extensive Christmas list, poses for one last picture, and then helps them off of his lap. Another elf comes over to escort them back to their parents and then out of the Santa area. The children excitedly tell their parents about everything that they told Santa and everything that Santa told them. The parents nod and turn back to Santa with a thankful smile. _It's kind of sweet, how hard he's working to make these people happy_ , he thinks.

Arthur continues this process for a few more children, and it goes almost exactly the same way each time. He brings a child over, listening to what they love most about Christmas before they step up to Santa. Alfred asks what they want for Christmas, they scream their response, and Alfred handles it like a pro.

"Elf! Hey, elf!" One child calls from the line to get Arthur's attention. He looks over at the little girl and then back at Alfred, unsure what to do; when he nods, turning his attention back to the little boy rambling on and on while on his lap, Arthur walks over to the little girl and squats down in front of the velvet rope, serving as the only thing keeping her from breaking into the Santa area prematurely.

"Yes, sweetheart?" He asks, smiling at her. She grins up at him and stops hopping up and down, leaning in close to speak with him quietly.

"Why don't you like Christmas?" She asks, peering up at him inquisitively. Arthur blinks. He hadn't thought anyone would ask him - at that thought, he mentally places his head in his hands. Of course little kids would ask him. They have no filter. With a small shrug, he answers her just as quietly.

"Oh, it's-it's not that I don't _like_ Christmas, it's just, well…" He stammers, trying to come up with a substantial answer that would get her off his back, without breaking the integrity of his role as elf. It was hard to lie to children so expertly. After a second of thought, he smiles and shrugs. "I think the Christmas spirit just hasn't hit me yet." He says simply. She was so innocently sweet and he didn't want to ruin _her_ Christmas spirit by explaining the reason behind his lack thereof. The little girl frowns and tugs at her dress, unsure what to say. He pauses and reaches over to ruffle her hair.

"You lot sure are helping with that though. Why don't you tell me what you like about Christmas so much? Maybe it'll help." She looks up and beams at him, beginning to hop up and down again.

"Okay!" The little girl prattles on and on and Arthur moves to sit on his knees as another elf takes over his responsibilities for a short while. He listens intently, nodding and praising the little girl for her fantastic ideas. She actually was kind of helping, he thinks. The cute little bundle of energy was actually kind of lifting his spirits, but he couldn't quite put his finger on exactly _why_. After a few minutes, he turns to look over at Alfred, who's fixated on Arthur as he speaks so softly to the little girl. He realizes he's been staring and turns away, giving the child on his lap a hearty 'Ho ho ho!' again. Arthur blushes and turns back to the girl, who's talking so fast she can't think of the words she wants to say before she's saying them. She stammers and gasps a lot, making Arthur worried for her poor health.

"Oh, oh, and-and-you can, um, you can do what my family does on Christmas day, we-we sit by the, um, the fire and drink hot cocoa - well except I don't, I'm lact-lact, um, latas-" She cuts herself off and shakes her head. "I can't have cow stuff! So I have apple cider, and, um, I-"

"Sophie!" A parent calls out from a few people back in the line and the little girl turns around. "There you are! Oh my God, don't do that! I was scared sick!" The women kneel down on either side of the little girl and they brush her hair behind her ear, huffing.

"Oh, sorry ma'am," Arthur smiles apologetically. "I didn't realize she wasn't in the front of the line."

"Oh, it's okay. She slipped away from us when he started crying, I guess." One of them gestures towards a small baby strapped to her back. The other woman picks Sophie up and smiles at Arthur.

"Sorry if she was bothering you." She says as they all stand up again.

"Oh, no, she wasn't-"

"I wasn't, Mama! I was tellin' him about our Christmas stuff!" The girl fidgets in the mom's arms and she turns to Arthur again. "He said-he said that I was helping!"

"And you were," Arthur assures her, laughing. "But you really shouldn't have run away from your parents, sweetie." The girl pouts, then turns towards the mother with the small baby strapped to her back.

"Mom, mom, can-can I give Mr. Elf a present?" The mother glances at Arthur, then shrugs and reaches into her purse. The little girl taps on her mama's shoulder, softly but quickly, insistently, until she lets her down, then she grabs the present and runs underneath the velvet rope towards Arthur. He jumps and kneels down again, hoping to stop her before she reaches Alfred, if she so chose.

"Here you go, Mr. Elf! Merry Christmas! I hope you start to feel better!" She thrusts a red and white striped candy cane with a cute little bow taped to the top. Arthur jumps in surprise, then smiles warmly and takes the candy cane. He stares at it for a moment, shocked and a little bit overwhelmed at her kindness; his eyes start misting up a bit, and she jumps into his arms in a hug.

"You sure are friendly towards a measly little elf like me," Arthur says, quickly hugging her and then releasing her with a chuckle, subtly wiping his eyes. The girl pouts.

"Elfs are impor'nt too!" She says insistently. "It's not fair that Santa gets all the attention!" Arthur smiles softly and pats her head, somewhat awkwardly.

"That's very sweet of you. I'll be sure to put in a good word with Santa for you." He whispers with a wink, making the little girl beam and hug him tightly again, before she turns and runs back to her mothers, who smile apologetically. Arthur returns to his duties next to Alfred, who looks up at Arthur, amazed.

They work for another hour, going through the long line of children, before it's time for Alfred to read to the children-er, until it's time for _Santa_ to read to the children. He holds up a few books and allows the kids to choose which one they want to read, and the entire time he keeps up the Santa character. Arthur is amazed. He was hardly able to handle the kids even as he brought them over to Alfred, and that was for about two seconds before he handed them away. Alfred had to allow them to sit on his knees, pull at his jacket, and sometimes the beard, and yet, he remained happy and calm the entire time. If it were Arthur in his situation, he would have exploded with frustration and anxiety within the first two minutes. Alfred went a whole _hour_.

Arthur watches from across the room, behind the crowd of children and their parents, as Alfred reads another book, at request of the children. He reads expertly, using different voices for different characters, acting surprised at the small twists in the picture book's plot, laughing at anything remotely funny with the famous 'Ho ho ho!'. He engages the kids in the book whenever he can, and seems to be thoroughly enjoying every book he reads. He remains as calm and happy as ever, and Arthur just shakes his head. It was rather cute how well he handled the children...

Arthur blushes at the thought and returns his attention to the story the other man was reading. He hopes Alfred's vision is poor enough that he can't tell his cheeks are bright red from all the way across the room.

Arthur gets distracted again and stops paying attention to Alfred and the silly children's story. He can't stop thinking about how adorable the kids were when they told him about all the things they loved about Christmas. Several of them told him the usuals - the treats, the toys, the snow - but a lot of them had odd Christmas traditions he'd never heard of. Some kids had fun ways of deciding who goes first, some kids get to play Santa every year and pass out the presents on Christmas day, some kids actually look forward to volunteering every year, and… it was all so… reassuring. Arthur couldn't help but smile as he remembered each and every one of their stories, so full of life and hope and happiness.

That was what it was. These kids didn't have a cynical bone in their body; they just loved and loved with their entire being, and it was difficult to _not_ see that, with how happy they were when Santa appeared and how excited they were to tell Arthur what they loved about Christmas. Thinking back on it, only a few kids had said the presents, and even then, that was on a list of other things they loved about Christmas. It was so wholesome, and Arthur was brought back to a feeling of childish hope and happiness he hadn't felt in a long time.

* * *

Alfred says goodbye to the kids as he and the elves return to the room to get changed back into their regular clothes, unbeknownst to the kids, of course. The kids whine in unison, but Alfred just laughs and assures them he would be back to see them soon. He winks, then leaves with the rest of them. In the back room, they take turns changing if they want to use the closet - some just change right then and there, which makes Arthur blush brightly and stare at the wall. Eventually, Arthur is able to change and Alfred soon after him. They give back the costumes in exchange for a water bottle, make sure all the kids and their parents have left, and then walk towards their cars.

"I don't understand how you do that." Arthur says after a moment of silence.

"Do what?"

"Deal with all those children." He answers. Alfred groans and shakes his head.

"God, don't even get me started." Alfred runs his hands through his hair, mussing it up to feel better after having been trapped in the Santa hat for so long, then takes a long sip of water. Arthur blinks, surprised.

"Um… what?"

"I mean, as much as I love little kids, they're so infuriating."

"What do you mean? You looked like a natural up there. You were smiling the entire time." Alfred laughs and shrugs.

"Yeah, and now my cheeks hurt." He massages his cheeks for good measure and then shrugs again. "It's great and all, but after a little while, dealing with kid after kid, it gets to ya, y'know?" Arthur is shocked, yet again. He just kind of assumed that Alfred didn't mind all the pulling and screaming and annoying children by how well he kept up the joyful Santa facade. He assumed that was just how he _was_ , not an act he was putting on, just like Arthur had been with each child that annoyed him. But apparently, he was wrong. Alfred stretches a bit, stiff from sitting for so long, and Arthur shakes his head. So maybe Alfred isn't the saint he'd thought him to be. That was... also reassuring.

"Then… why do you do it? Why would you offer your time here at all if you don't like it?"

"Are you kidding? I love it!" Alfred shouts as they stop walking and stand by his truck. "I _love_ doing this! I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm gonna go get wasted at home now." Arthur laughs. "This is exhausting, annoying work. They sit on your lap and sometimes they sit _way_ too close. They pull on _everything_ \- I think next year I'm gonna fucking glue my beard on, I had so many close calls. They scream in my ear, they cry, they whine, and sometimes they hit me. But I mean, it's worth it. I get to see their excited little faces, I get to tell the parents what they told me they want for Christmas, the parents get these happy little memories of making their kids so excited for Christmas… I get to be the source of so many people's happiness at once and it's _amazing_. It's worth all the pain and discomfort in the world if it means I can make even one little kid happy." He pauses and peers at Arthur.

"Don't you think?"

Arthur thinks back to how loved he felt when that little girl wanted to speak with him, just to have a shot at cheering him up. He thinks about how widely she smiled when he gave her the opportunity to do just that. He thinks about how warm her hug was for such a tiny body and how much love radiated through her and her parents alike. He thinks about how thankful he felt when she gave him the candy cane, and he reaches into his pocket and pulls it out with a fond smile. He nods.

"Yeah... I guess I get it." Alfred smiles happily and looks down at the candy cane in Arthur's hands.

"Plus, I mean, you seemed to be okay with them. Especially that Sophie girl." Arthur shrugs.

"She was very… determined." He murmurs and Al laughs. He takes a sip of water and then taps his fingers on the bottle, before he glances up at Alfred and smirks a little bit.

"Y'know, I think you'd look much better with a beard." Alfred blushes.

"What?"

"Yeah, y'know, a big, bushy, white beard. Just, less fake, obviously." Arthur grins, and Al rolls his eyes - Arthur feels a small sense of pride knowing he could make Alfred just a bit embarrassed, after all the time he's spent making _him_ feel embarrassed. Even if it wasn't on purpose.

"Oh, ha-ha. Funny." Arthur laughs, then falls silent again. They stand next to the truck, Alfred rocking on his heels while he waits for something else to talk about. Arthur looks down at the ground, wanting to stay here longer, talking with Alfred, but unsure what else to say. He just… liked staying in Alfred's company, for some reason. After a while, Alfred clears his throat and looks down at his water, a bit embarrassed.

"I have to say, seeing you interact with her… it was… pretty cute." He murmurs. Arthur looks over at him with a deep blush, before he quickly looks away again and clears his own throat.

"Yes, well, um… yes, she was." Arthur says, quickly taking another drink.

"Well, n-no, I meant-"

"Alfred! Hey!" Someone calls out to Alfred, interrupting his thought, and he turns to them. He grins and waves a bit, before taking the other person's hand and shaking it happily in greeting. Arthur waits patiently, watching as Alfred interacts with the other person, before he bites his lip and turns, walking to his car. He didn't get to say goodbye, but it was alright. He understood. Alfred was a very popular person, and Arthur was the new guy, so he would let him talk to his friend without having to worry about him. He had a good day and he didn't want to ruin it by talking to someone he didn't know, and, frankly, he didn't want to know. He was alright with just letting Alfred talk to his friends without him. It was the one selfless act Arthur could do tonight, he reasoned.

Alfred talks for a few minutes, before he gets a chance to introduce Arthur, but when he turns, Arthur is getting into his car a few feet away. He frowns, worried he's upset him, and takes a step, about to walk over to his car to apologize, but Arthur looks up in his car and gives him a happy smile. A genuine smile. An "it's-okay" smile. Alfred smiles a bit sadly, apologetically, and nods, waving to him, before turning back to the friend who'd come up to talk to him. Arthur drives away, the happy smile still on his face.

* * *

 _Ah, don't you just love getting interrupted by someone else when you're about to profess your feelings? Dang. :)_


	6. Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree

He can't figure out what to wear.

He'd tried on every single sweater vest he could, every single nice button up he had, but nothing felt right. Looking around his disaster of a bedroom, he sighs. Everything either felt too fancy or not fancy enough, or it felt too tight or too loose or too… just, too wrong. But why? Why was he so hell bent on finding something that was "perfect"?

His phone goes off and he jumps, startled. Feeling around for the damned thing underneath the pile of shirts on his bed, he grumbles to himself. What was going on with him? He was never like this. He had a few shirts that he wore all the time and a few shirts that he had for special occasions, like this stupid Christmas party he was getting ready for. It usually took him about five minutes to get ready. What was taking him so long? He was going to be late at this rate.

"Aha!" He finally finds the phone and picks up without looking at the caller id. "Arthur Kirkland, speaking."

"Geez, Artie, you're not at work, you don't need to answer so formally." Arthur breathes out a sigh and he smiles to himself.

"Hello, Alfred."

"That's more like it!" He can hear the grin on the other man's face over the phone. "Anyway, I was just calling to check and see if you're still coming to the Christmas party!"

"Of course I am, it's my bank, after all." Arthur mutters, taking another look at the sweaters strewn across his bed. Maybe he could be a bit festive and wear red? Ugh, but he looked horrible in red.

"Oh, well, yeah, that's good. I was just concerned because, well, it's… you're late, y'know." Alfred whispers into the phone. Arthur's eyes widen and he looks over at the clock radio.

"What? No I'm not! It doesn't start until seven!"

"No, it started at six. Didn't you get that last email?" Arthur groans and shuts his eyes, hopping up off his bed and running to his closet. He grimaces as he remembers that there _was_ a last minute email sent out that changed the time, but he completely forgot. Man, he really has been out of it lately.

"Yes, yes, I did. Alright, I'm-I'm on my way." He lies, then quickly hangs up before Alfred can get another word in. He takes another quick look in his closet and decides on a nice, green sweater, one with a few reindeer on the chest and a couple red accents. He didn't remember buying this shirt, but it was festive and looked nice on him, so it didn't matter. He pulls it on on top of his button down shirt, then races out to his car.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it…" He mutters as he turns the car on and races out of the house. He hated being late. He hated showing up an hour later and having everyone turn to see who'd just showed up. He hated being the center of attention, especially when he'd built up such a reputation that meant he didn't do things like this. He was responsible. He was the manager. He was… _ugh._ Late, is what he was. Very late.

Arthur arrives at the bank in record time and takes a moment to take a deep breath, adjusting his shirt and then brushing his hair with his fingers while he peers into the rearview mirror. He looked like a mess. He should have taken the time to really brush his hair. Maybe he shouldn't have worn this shirt, either. He should have-

"God!" He shouts, pushing the rearview mirror out of the way. Since when did he care so much about his appearance? He never worried so much about how he looked before, even for this stupid parties, why did he care now? No one was going to pay attention to him after he arrived. No one except Alfred, probably…

He suddenly feels even more nervous to enter the party.

With a groan, he jumps out of his car and heads into the bank. As soon as he opens the doors, there's a chorus of shouts from his employees, who each raise a glass happily to him. No one makes a fuss over how late he is, and Arthur furrows his eyebrows. Usually they would all tease him about being late…

"Hey Arthur!" Someone calls over to him, giving him a glass of punch. "Al told us you would be late 'cause your car wasn't working. Glad to see you were able to make it! Do you need one of us to take a look at it?" Arthur blinks and shakes his head, mumbling something about how it was alright now, just acting up because of the cold, he was guessing. He starts to walk away from the employee, before he turns and clears his throat.

"Um, where _is_ Alfred, by the way?" He asks and the other person grins, a bit mischievously, before quickly pointing towards his office. Arthur narrows his eyes, then spins around and makes his way to his office, taking a long sip of the punch - he coughs. The _spiked_ punch, it seems.

"Alfred, did you-" He stops as he opens the door to his office and sees Alfred hanging up more decorations on the walls and ceiling of his office. He blinks and clears his throat, getting the other man's attention.

"Wh-oh! Hey, Artie! Ta-da!" Alfred opens his arms, showcasing his work, before he diligently goes back to hanging a snowflake from the ceiling tile. He's standing precariously on one of Arthur's desks in the office and he winces - there'd better not be marks on his desk after he's done there…The Brit looks up again at Alfred's face and notices his smirk.

"Nice sweater." He says, then turns back to what he was doing. Arthur blushes and self-consciously crosses his arms over the reindeer. He knew this sweater was a bad choice.

"Did you _lie_ to everyone about why I was late?" He asks, frowning. Alfred turns over his shoulder and smiles with a nod.

"Well, uh, yeah. You were gonna be late and I know you hate being late, so… I figured if you had a good reason for it, they wouldn't give you as much shit." Arthur blushes a bit at the thought that Alfred was worried for him, kind enough to cover for him, then clears his throat and shakes his head dismissively.

"You didn't have to do that. I'm a grown adult, I can take care of myself." He drinks the last of the punch and sighs. He already needed a refill.

"Oh, well, then… I can go tell them the truth…" Alfred says, though he doesn't move. Arthur sighs and closes the door, then takes a seat in the chair opposite his desk after removing his jacket.

"No, no, no need to let them all know you're a notorious liar." Alfred gets down from the desk after stringing the last of the lights he'd brought, frowning at Arthur.

"I am _not_ a notorious liar! I just-"

"Hey, Ar-Oh. Sorry. I didn't know I was, um, interrupting something…" Someone says from the door, peeking their head in. Arthur turns around to see them smirking. "I can come back."

"No, uh, I was just making the boss's office more festive!" Alfred says with a blush, quickly rounding the desk to stand next to Arthur instead. The brit furrows his eyebrows. What in the world was going on?

"What do you need, Steven?"

"Oh, well, the rest of us were gonna start playing some games! Thought I'd come see if either of you wanted to join." Arthur rolls his eyes.

"No thank you."

"Aw, c'mon, Artie!" Alfred whines. "You gotta!"

"Yeah, _Artie_." Steven snickers and Alfred sends a quick glare his way.

"I don't _gotta_ do anything," Arthur says, standing up with a sigh. "But I will _watch,_ if it will get you two to stop prodding me. Let's go." Alfred grins and quickly follows the others out of Arthur's office and into the main lobby area. Arthur walks towards the punch bowl and pours a large amount of the spiked punch into his plastic cup. He vaguely wonders who decided to make a punch and spike it, like a teenager in high school, rather than just bringing alcohol, which they were allowed to do, but he didn't really care at this moment. All he cared about was that it tasted like fruit punch with an added kick, and he was very quickly becoming less and less sober.

"I dunno, have you seen them lately?" He overhears some girls a few feet away from him whispering. Normally, he doesn't like to eavesdrop, but sometimes hearing the office gossip was his only way to know about what was going on with his employees. After all, no one likes to talk to their boss like that. Well, except for Alfred.

"I mean, yeah," The other girl responds with a chuckle. "They hang out, like, every night. That doesn't mean anything."

"Are you kidding? Have you seen how he looks at 'im?" Arthur frowns. Who were they talking about? He didn't know of any of his employees dating each other…

"That doesn't mean they're dating!"

"Oh, Janice. Poor, naive, Janice." One of the muses, and Arthur chuckles despite himself. "You just can't tell when two men are in love, can you?" _Two men?_ Arthur thinks. He takes a sip of his punch and glances around at his employees, trying to figure out who they were talking about. Maybe Jonathan and Richard? They had always seemed very close… hm…

"Please, Katy-"

"No, I'm serious! Alfred's totally head over heels for him!" Arthur almost chokes on his punch. _Alfred?_ He continues looking around the bank at everyone interacting, trying to figure out who in the hell Alfred was interested in. He had no idea. And for some reason his stomach was now in knots. He takes another sip of the punch then refills his cup.

"Come on, Katy they're complete opposites!"

"No, you come on! You know the old saying, opposites attract-" Suddenly, Katy stops talking, and Arthur realizes they've probably noticed him. He pops a few crisps into his mouth, then looks around the bank; he turns and acts as if he's just now noticing them, smiling at them before he walks away with his cup of punch, joining the crowd as they watch the limbo competition. Alfred faces off against one of the other security guards, each trying to bend lower and lower underneath the- _oh._ Arthur thinks with an amused smile. _That's a broomstick._

He leans against the wall along with a few other wallflowers, and notices a few familiar eyes glancing his way every now and then; he smiles politely at them, before turning away with furrowed eyebrows. Why were so many people looking at him like that? After a while, Alfred looks over at Arthur and grins, before he turns back to the broomstick and cracks his knuckles. He moves his neck side to side, then gestures for the broomstick to be lowered even more. He smirks over at his opponent and starts to lean backwards, trying his best to move underneath the broom; but when he gets halfway underneath, he has to move even lower than he'd assumed, and he falls flat on his back. Everyone bursts into laughter - except for Arthur, who stands poised to go see if he's alright, eyebrows furrowed and mouth turned into a frown.

"Hey, Arthur," he hears to his right. He turns and sees one of his employees, Samantha, he thinks her name is, smiling up at him. He smiles politely back at her, then turns towards the limbo group again, sighing in relief when he sees Alfred jump up with a laugh and shake his opponents hand. "Hey, um, I was just wondering… Is it true you're dating Alfred?" Arthur absentmindedly nods his head, watching as Alfred-

Wait, what?

"What? No, no, we're not-we're not dating." He reassures her, shaking his head with a deep blush. "Where on Earth did you get that idea?" Samantha responds with a simple shrug.

"It's all everyone can talk about."

"What?" Arthur's blush deepens and he looks around at the rest of the group. Suddenly, Steven's smirk, Katy and Janice's conversation, and all the looks he's been getting makes sense. He groans. "Look, I'm-we're-it's not-" Samantha laughs and shakes her head.

"It's okay, I get it. You're just... super close friends." She offers with an eyebrow raised, swishing her punch in her plastic cup. Arthur nods and straightens his sweater a bit self consciously.

"Yes."

"Yep." She nods, watching Alfred make his way to the treat table, taking a plate full of cookies. He looks over and sees Samantha watching him and waves; Samantha waves back, before she looks over and sees Arthur smiling, once again, at Alfred. She chuckles. "Well, anyway, I was just curious. I'll let everyone know you're not dating. Nice to talk to you!"

"Yes… Wait, _everyone_?" Arthur calls after her as she walks away, but she just raises her drink in a sort of salute, not even glancing back. He sighs. _I need more of this punch._

Alfred meets him halfway to the punch bowl and tries to strike up a conversation while Arthur fills his cup over and over again. The Brit contemplates telling Alfred about what Samantha had told him, letting him know that apparently _everyone_ was gosipping about the two of them. But, ultimately, he knew it would make their situation more awkward. Plus, he kind of… didn't want to know how Alfred would react. Would he be disgusted? Would he be angry? Would he be… happy?

"Arthur?" Alfred finally gets his attention, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Did something happen?"

"No, no, everything's fine," He finally answers, placing his cup down and looking over at Alfred with a sweet smile. "I just forgot why I hated these parties." He admits. It's partially true. He hated when everyone got thoroughly wasted and tried to bring him into the festivities, even when he really didn't want to be a part of them. They always flirted and made out and it made everything a bit more awkward when they all came back to work on the following Monday. But, they always asked if there was going to be another one the next year, so Arthur always obliged. But that doesn't mean he has to enjoy them. So, instead of being a grumpy old man, Arthur decides, he's going to get just as wasted. He'd rather not spend the entire party arguing with people about his relationship with Alfred, anyway. Alfred frowns, reaching over to grab his wrist as he tries to pour himself a sixth or seventh cup of spiked punch.

"Arthur, I think you've had enough. There's like, five bottles of alcohol in there."

"Yes, I'm aware," Arthur says, before he drinks the entire cup once again. "But if I'm going to get through this party, full of gossipping buffoons and childish games where people keep asking me to join in _,_ I'm going to need to be completely wasted. Now, if you'll excuse me." He looks pointedly at Alfred, who sighs and turns away, walking towards the treat table again.

 _This isn't going to end well._

* * *

An hour later, Arthur has done every single thing to embarrass himself that Alfred could possibly think of. He'd danced with a couple of coworkers to the Christmas music, rather obnoxiously, joined in on the Christmas karaoke - something Arthur would normally have vehemently argued against - and flirted with any of the guests' dates that he didn't employ. Alfred thanked whatever God remained in this bank that they weren't his employees, or Arthur would have a lot more to be embarrassed about tomorrow morning. Alfred had taken to babysitting him, but the stubborn Brit just became more and more stubborn the drunker he got, claiming he wasn't drunk, that he didn't need help, and then running away from Alfred at the first sign of something fun. It _would_ have been amusing, but Alfred was a bit worried about him. He was either going to hurt himself or someone else if no one was watching him; so instead of joining in on the drinking, Alfred kept a close eye on him as he ran around and danced and drank. He noticed a few people snickering every time he doted on the Brit, and he always responded with a glare, but it never worked. He was not nearly as intimidating as Arthur. He wasn't too sure _why_ everyone was so keen on watching them almost all night, but he guessed it was because of how childish the normally stuffy man was acting. Alfred had to admit, he did laugh a few more times than he'd wanted to, but it was just because this was so out of character for him. It was amusing to see him out of his element, so disproportionately happy-go-lucky, so empty of shame. Everytime he got more to drink, Alfred tried to argue with him, but Arthur just shoved him away and started to chug his drink, the entire group chanting him on. Now, he'd decided he was too warm. Alfred had to fight with Arthur on whether or not he was allowed to take his sweater off.

"Arthur, you're going to yell at me tomorrow if I let you undress right now." He says sternly, holding onto the bottom of Arthur's sweater, which is being tugged up by the inebriated man. Arthur whines.

"But I'm _warm,_ Alfred!"

"That's because of the alcohol," He mumbles, rolling his eyes. Arthur really was infuriating when he was drunk.

"No 's'not! 'M _hot_!" Arthur laughs, finally wrenching his sweater free from Alfred's hands and yanking it off of his chest. Al groans, placing his face in his hands as Arthur tosses the sweater to the ground and then races over to join in another round of limbo. He knows that Arthur is wearing a button down shirt underneath the sweater, but he still didn't want to let him take it off. Arthur _never_ would do this sober, even if he was sweating profusely like he is now, so he knew only bad things could come when he does sober up and remember what happened. Thankfully, the rest of the group, save for a few select individuals, was just as wasted, so they welcomed drunk-off-his-ass-Arthur with open arms and lots of cheers. Alfred just grabs the abandoned sweater and sits down on one of the chairs in the lobby, taking a deep breath. He can already hear Arthur's annoyed, embarrassed-beyond-belief shrieks when he wakes up tomorrow and realizes what he did. And realizes that Alfred let him do that.

He could already tell how exhausted he was going to be tomorrow and it was only 9:30.

"Alfred~!" Arthur sing-songs as he walks, clumsily, back over to Alfred after another round of flail-dancing. He trips on the couch corner and Al stands up, reaching out to steady him, making Arthur giggle. "Come on~! Come limo with us!"

"You mean _limbo_?"

"... Yeah!" Arthur laughs and grabs one of the half full cups of punch off the table; Alfred grabs it from his hands as he brings it to his mouth and frowns. "Hey!"

"You have _no_ idea whose drink that is, Art." He places it behind him, out of Arthur's line of vision, and hopes that's enough to keep him from drinking whatever was in the cup. Out of sight, out of mind, right? "Anyway, thanks, but I'm good. I'm pretty tired."

"Aw…!" Arthur whines, stumbling forward and then leaning on Alfred's arm. "Come oooon…! Just hold the pole thing! At least put your fuckin'... strong arms to good use!" Alfred blushes.

"Strong arms?"

"Wullyeah! You got _boulders_ for arms…!" Arthur grabs the other man's bicep and squeezes, grinning, until Alfred pulls his arm out of his grasp. As much as he loved the flirtatious brit admiring his muscles, he felt slightly… weird about it coming from him when he was drunk. He would never do this if he were sober, and along with everything else he was doing tonight, feeling up Alfred's arms just made him feel like he was taking advantage of his drunk friend, somehow.

"DidIevertellyou," Arthur slurrs, reaching up to brush his fingers through Alfred's hair, making the other man blush again. "that… you have really pretty eyes?"

"Thank you…" Alfred murmurs, lightly pulling Arthur's hands out of his hair.

"Really! S'like… s'like the _ocean_. Ooh! Ooh, we should go _swimming_! We should go _skinny dipping_!" Arthur laughs and tugs on his arm. "Le's go! Or, wait, no, is pro'lly cold…" Alfred chuckles and nods.

"Yes, Arthur. It's below zero. Skinny dipping would not be a good idea." Arthur's grin turns into a smirk as he glances over at Alfred again.

"I dunno, souns like a good idea to me…" Alfred blushes again and frowns, taking a step back as Arthur steps forward. God, this was so heartbreaking. He knew this was just Arthur being drunk and flirty. He didn't mean any of it. But some selfish part of him really wished he would.

"Arthur-" Suddenly, Arthur goes pale, and his smirk drops quickly, standing up straight again. "...You okay?"

"'M don't feel good…" he mumbles. Alfred's eyes go wide and he grabs the closest waste basket. He holds it in front of Arthur just in time for him to throw up into it; Arthur groans and wobbles forward a bit, falling into Alfred's arms.

"Okay, buddy, let's get you home." Alfred says, placing the wastebasket down and wrapping his arm around the other man's shoulders.

"No! Don't wanna…" The brit groans again and holds his stomach. Al grabs the wastebasket again and hands it to Arthur. "No…! Stop!" Arthur shoves the wastebasket away and glares up at him, swaying slightly. Alfred frowns; what was with the sudden change in attitude? He was just flirting with him. He was just grabbing his arms and calling his eyes pretty.

"Artie, dude, come-"

"Sssstop calling me _Artie_!" He shouts, shoving his chest. Alfred stumbles back a foot or two. "We're _not_ dading!"

"What? Dating?" Alfred frowns, glancing around nervously. "Arthur, I-I know that."

"Then tell _those_ people!" He points at the rest of the group who'd started staring at the scene they were making - they all look away when they're pointed out, and Alfred sighs. _Oh._ They think they're dating. They think that Arthur is dating Alfred, his employee, and they're gossipping about them. _Great_.

"Come on." When Arthur whines again and tries to stay, trying fruitlessly to pull himself out of Alfred's strong grip, Alfred sighs. "I'll make you tea?" Arthur muses over this for a second, before he concedes, grabbing for the waste basket as he throws up again. Alfred smiles, albeit tiredly, then leads the other man over to his office and grabs their coats, helping Arthur get into his before he pulls on his own. Arthur slumps over in his office chair while Alfred zips up his jacket and looks over at him sleepily.

"Man, you cannot hold your liquor," Alfred says with a chuckle. The brit mumbles something and Alfred steps closer. "What?"

" _You_ can't handle your liquor…" He repeats, pointing a finger to Alfred's chest accusingly. Alfred snorts.

"Alright, weirdo, let's go." He grabs Arthur's hand and hauls him up, wrapping an arm around his waist to help him to walk to the front doors. "I'll bring you to get your car tomorrow, okay, bud?" He says quietly as Arthur protests getting into the truck. The Brit mumbles something incoherent and Alfred just buckles him in, then closes the door. He rounds the front of the truck and quickly gets in, beginning the quiet ride to Arthur's house.

He reaches down after a few moments and turns on the radio, but keeps it quiet. He tries to drive as smoothly as possible, avoiding potholes and taking as few turns as he can for the ride, trying his hardest to not disturb Arthur. He looks over at him and smiles a bit sadly when he notices Arthur singing to the Christmas music under his breath.

He had no idea everyone thought they were dating. He knew how much the other man hated when they gossipped about him, especially as their boss. He enjoyed learning gossip about his employees because it made him feel like a fly on the wall, but, the minute people started gossipping about his life he threw a fit. A true hypocrite, that man, Alfred thinks with a chuckle.

On the other hand, he was a bit... saddened by how vehemently the other man denied the fact that they were dating. Was he just upset because he's not supposed to date his employees? Was it just because it was a rumor among his employees, about him and about his closest friend? Or... was he upset because they thought he was dating _Alfred_? He really hoped that wasn't true, but... he also really wouldn't be surprised if it was. Arthur didn't seem to be much of a dating type, and, honestly, he wasn't even sure if Arthur really wanted to be friends with Alfred. Alfred had always just kind of forced his way into these friendships, but... he thought maybe...

Arthur's singing stops and he throws up again into the wastebasket. Alfred reaches a hand over to rub his back and Arthur groans.

"Damn… alcohol… yer s'posta be m'friend…" Arthur mumbles, and Alfred laughs slightly. He pulls into Arthur's driveway and quickly turns off the car, unbuckling and then rounding the front of the car to help the other man out. Wrapping an arm around his waist again, he leads him up to the front porch and bites his lip.

"Uh… Art, your keys?" Arthur fumbles around with his jacket pockets and eventually pulls out a set of keys. He stumbles to the front door and jams the set of keys towards the door, halfheartedly trying to unlock the front door. The other man snickers and takes the keys from him, trying a few keys before he guesses the right one and opens the door. Arthur stumbles in and shoves off his jacket, then his shoes, and then falls onto the couch in his living room. Alfred takes off his shoes and then smiles down at the half-asleep man.

"Let's get you to your bedroom, at least, huh?" He murmurs, pulling Arthur back up to his feet. Arthur stumbles and trips on the side of the couch - Al reaches out and holds him steady, then sighs and picks him up easily, carrying him like a sleepy child who stayed up too late. Arthur whines as he's carried up the stairs and to his room.

"M'not a baby…" he mumbles tiredly.

"You sure? Really seems like it." Arthur just lightly shoves his chest in response and Alfred chuckles. "Alright, c'mon, let's get you in bed." Alfred opens up the door to the room he assumes to be Arthur's and lightly kicks around a few abandoned sweaters and dress shirts with a chuckle. He hadn't expected Arthur to be this messy.

"Not comfy…" Arthur squirms around as Al sets him in the bed. He frowns.

"Not comfy?"

"Not comfy." Arthur confirms. Al sighs and looks around, rubbing the back of his head.

"I… I mean… Like… you want… PJ's?" Arthur nods and tugs at his shirt, trying but failing to pull it off. Alfred sighs and contemplates it for a moment, before he kneels down before the bed and helps him get undressed.

"You're going to kill me, tomorrow," He mutters and Arthur smiles, reaching over to pat his head.

"S'okay," he says, somewhat reasuredly, and Alfred smiles halfheartedly back at him.

He helps him pull off his dress pants and then pull on his pajama pants in what feels like record time, trying his best to not look all the while blushing deeply. Slowly, Arthur sinks into his bed and falls asleep almost instantly. Alfred sighs thankfully. He pulls the covers over him, then heads to his bathroom to grab him some pain medication and fill up a glass of water. When he returns and sets them down on his bedside table, Arthur grabs his arm.

"Don't…" Al frowns.

"What? Don't give you medicine?" Arthur shakes his head and tugs him closer. "Don't… leave…?" He asks quietly. Arthur nods. Swallowing nervously, he nods.

"Okay, buddy. I'll crash on the couch, so if you need-"

"No…!" Arthur whines and tugs him a bit harder.

"What…?" Alfred whispers, kneeling beside him again.

"Here." Arthur mumbles, and reaches over to the other side of his bed. Alfred sighs, his heart breaking into a million pieces again. He couldn't help but feel terrible, as if Arthur was letting him in on some secret without knowing it, and Alfred was going to reap the rewards of his drunken words. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with Arthur, if just to sleep next to him for a few hours, but he knew...

"I don't think that's the best idea, Arthur…"

" _Artie_ …"

"I didn't call you-"

"No no no," Arthur finally opens his eyes and looks up at him with sad eyes. "I want Artie. I like when you say it. But… they thought…" His eyes fall closed again, almost like he's so tired he can hardly keep them open.

"They thought we were dating," Alfred finishes and then sighs. "I know. I had no idea, Arthur. I'm sorry." Arthur nods and reaches over, smoothing back Alfred's hair fondly. Alfred's breath hitches and he pulls back. Damn it, damn it, damn _everything_. This _sucked._

"I'll… I'll be on the couch, okay? Let me know if you need anything. Goodnight, Ar-"

" _Artie._ "

"... Goodnight, Artie." He says with a small smile. He closes the door to Arthur's room and quickly heads down to the living room, falling onto the couch with a long sigh.

Oh boy…

* * *

The following morning, Alfred wakes up rather early, considering how exhausted he was the night before. He groans as he stretches out his sore muscles - why _was_ he so sore? Yawning, he sits up from the rather small couch and looks around. _Oh, right._ He'd spent the night at Arthur's place.

A deep blush finds its way to his cheeks as he remembers exactly why he was on Arthur's couch.

With a sigh, Alfred stands up and glances down the hallway towards Arthur's room; thankfully, the Brit still seemed to be sleeping. He heads to the kitchen and hums as he glances around the cabinets, looking for something to eat. Arthur was probably going to be majorly hungover, and wouldn't want a whole lot of food, so… Eggs for him, and toast for Arthur it is.

He begins breaking a few eggs into a bowl and heating up a pan, humming a soft holiday tune, and dancing to his own rhythm. After a short while, he hears Arthur's door open and then the soft padding of his feet down the hallway and into the kitchen. He turns around with a happy grin, whisking the eggs in a large bowl.

"Mornin', sunshine," Alfred sings. Arthur groans and places his head on the table as he sits down.

"Kill me…" Arthur mutters, and Alfred laughs, careful to stay quiet. "What… happened, last night?"

"You," He starts, pointing at Arthur with the egg-sodden whisk, before he turns around and starts pouring the eggs into the pan. "got _super_ wasted." Arthur groans and puts his head in his hands.

"Yes, I guessed as much from my pounding headache and queasy stomach… What did I _do_?" He asks, dreading the answer. Drunk Arthur was never good for anyone, including himself.

"Danced." Arthur groans. "Limbo-ed." Another groan. "And flirted. A lot." Arthur's head whips up at that.

"Oh my _God_. With who?"

"Um..." He blushes, careful to keep his back to Arthur as he scrambled the eggs. "A few people you didn't employ..."

"Oh, good..." He narrows his eyes at Alfred. "Who else?"

"Uh... me." He says, his blush deepening. He glances over at Arthur to see his cheeks darken as well, which makes him feel a bit better.

"Oh, lord... Alfred, I'm sorry. I get really..." He clears his throat. "Well, I suppose you know how I get when I'm drunk, now." Alfred grins.

"It's okay. It was kind of nice." He teases, turning around as he grabs a few slices of toast and puts them in the toaster.

"Nice?"

"Yeah." He smirks at the other man. "You grabbed my biceps, said they're like boulders, and then you called my eyes really pretty."

"Oh _god_."

"And then you said they're like the ocean, and then tried to get me to let you skinny dip with me." Arthur places his head back down, slowly, as his cheeks darken even more.

"I hate drunk me..." Alfred pouts a bit, enjoying embarrassing him, like usual.

"What, so you mean you were _lying_ about my pretty blue eyes and giant biceps?"

"Well, no, but-" Arthur cuts himself off and looks away, at the eggs, the toaster, outside at the snow - at anything but Alfred. God, did he really just say that? Alfred responds with a blush of his own, turning back around to the eggs as they continue to cook. They stay in silence for a little bit, unsure of what else to say without embarrassing themselves.

"You were like a little kid. It was really funny, but also really frustrating." Alfred says after a minute or two. "I kept waiting for you to just pass out so I could take you home, but you didn't."

"So why did you take me home?"

Alfred takes a moment to think about his reply. Did he really want to bring up the fact that Arthur found out everyone thought they were dating? It was _probably_ the reason he got so wasted, in the first place. But… He didn't want him to relive the embarrassment. Still, he could just imagine how upset Arthur would be if he did remember anything, or if someone reminded him when they got back to work in a few days, so...

"Do you… not remember anything?" Arthur hums as he thinks, watching Alfred scramble the eggs for a moment.

"I remember… arriving at the party, drinking a lot… I do remember dancing, actually… and then I remember you tucking me into bed and falling asleep right away. Why?" Alfred holds back a sigh of relief at the fact that he doesn't remember Alfred helping him to get dressed for bed, and chooses to shrug his shoulders instead.

"Curious. I brought you home 'cause you threw up and then kept whining."

"Good God." Arthur sighs and walks over to his kitchen table to place his head on the cool surface. After a moment of silence, Alfred brings over his scrambled eggs and the toast for Arthur and sits down across from him.

"And… you also… found out…" Alfred picks his words incredibly carefully, slowly shaking a bit of salt over his eggs. "that a lot of people at work… think we're… dating." He says with a small blush, looking down at his eggs instead of up at Arthur.

"Oh… _Oh_ …" He places his head in his hands with a groan. "That would explain why some people texted me last night apologizing for the rumors they spread…" He sighs and picks his head back up, attempting to take a bite of the plate of toast Alfred had given him.

"Well, at least now they know." Alfred says with a smile, beginning to eat his eggs. Arthur nods and takes small bites of his toast, before he realizes something.

"Wait… why did you stay?" Arthur asks, glancing over at Alfred, curiously. Alfred blushes a bit and licks his lips, unsure of how to answer.

"Um… You… asked me to." Arthur blushes as well, looking down at his toast.

"... Oh." He says simply. "I'm… sure it was because I might get sick and need your help." Alfred nods and takes a bite of his scrambled eggs.

"Yeah. Totally." He says with an innocent smile.

"Well… Thank you, for staying. And for taking care of me. _God_ , I must have been so infuriating."

"Yup." Alfred says and chuckles at Arthur's sigh. "You hit me a lot."

"I'm sorry."

"And swore at me a lot."

"Well, that's… not really new."

"No, but it was still _hurtful_." Alfred places a hand on his chest and gives Arthur a wounded look. The brit rolls his eyes.

"Shut up." Alfred grins and continues eating his breakfast in peace.

* * *

 _Can you tell I've never gotten drunk before, nor have I ever been in the presence of anyone drunk before? :') Hope this made sense haha_

 _Please leave a review, I love hearing everyone's thoughts about the chapters! Just a few more until it's CHRISTMAS! I'm trying to get these out before Christmas day, hopefully, so I guess look forward to a few chapters a day from here on out, haha!_


	7. Deck The Halls!

Arthur wakes up the next morning with a smaller - but still just as annoying - headache, to the sound of Christmas music outside of his house. He smiles slightly, turning over in his bed as he hears one of the songs that Alfred sings all the time. Silent Night, he thinks. One of his neighbors must be playing Christmas music…

Wait, no, that sounds way too close to be a neighbor. And, hang on, something is ticking. No, not ticking… Someone is hammering. Why the hell is someone hammering at- he glances at the clock. _Oh._ He slept in a bit more than he wanted to, but he also still had a slight hangover, so that was to be expected. Now he was even more annoyed at the person hammering something in his neighborhood. He knew it wasn't a woodpecker - he'd gotten a few deterrents to keep them away from his house in the summer - and he knew it wasn't someone knocking on his door. So the only logical solution was a hammer. Why the hell was someone hammering outside, loud enough for him to hear no less. He hears the hammer hit what he assumes to be a nail about ten more times, each tick making his head pound, before he groans and jumps out of bed. Whatever and whoever it was was being loud and repetitive and keeping him from sleeping in and enjoying his weekend. He pulls on his slippers, then his robe, and then heads outside.

When he does, he sees Alfred up in the tree outside his house, tapping _something_ into the branches with a large hammer. Arthur sputters for a second, quickly walking down his driveway to talk to Alfred as he stands with his hands on his hips, surveying his work.

"What on _Earth_ are you doing?" Arthur demands, arms crossed to try and conserve heat. It was _freezing_ out, and Alfred was just in what looked like a thin, fall jacket. What, is he just full of boiling lava? Shivering, Arthur glares up at Alfred. Ugh, he should have taken the time to pull on his jacket and boots...

"Decorating!" Alfred shouts, gesturing to the light set that he'd started to hang. "D'ya like it?" He points to the rest of the yard, and Arthur realizes Alfred had already decorated his _entire_ yard so far. There was a set of elves next to Santa holding a baby reindeer, all cut out of wood and painted carefully, and lights were across the bushes in front of his house. They were turned on, even though it was hardly visible in the daylight. He'd put garland around the columns on his porch, with lights in between them, and there was even a small tree on the steps, and next to that was the source of the Christmas music he'd heard; Alfred's phone was sitting on top of a small Bluetooth speaker. There was a wreath hanging from his door, and in the space above his garage. On the other side of his driveway was a family of snowmen, each with a different set of accessories; one had a top hat, gloves on his stick arms, and a red scarf; the next had a smaller, rounder hat and a larger, white scarf; the last, smallest one had a hat with a pom-pom at the top. Everywhere he turned, there was another piece of decoration from Alfred.

"Yes, yes, I see that, obviously," Arthur says, slightly irritated. "I _meant,_ why are you decorating _my_ house?"

"Well, when I brought you home the other night, I couldn't help but see that you didn't have a single decoration up, and I thought, you can't get into the Christmas mood without lights, let alone without _any_ decorations up! So I figured I'd use my extra decorations that don't fit in my apartment and decorate your house!" Arthur stares at Alfred incredulously.

"That's… a bit presumptuous, don't you think?"

"I think everything I've been doing is a bit presumptuous." He teases with a grin. "I don't think this really even makes the list, if we're being honest." Arthur huffs and glares at him, then looks up at the lights - he'd made it around the tree, all the way up to the highest branches he could reach. And there was still another few boxes in the truck that was in his driveway. He sighs.

"Fine. Continue, if you must." He says, indifferent, then turns and starts trudging through the snow back to his front door.

"You got it, sir!" Alfred laughs and salutes, before he turns back to continue hanging up the rest of the lights.

Arthur heads inside and watches from his front window for a moment while he warms up. He chews on his lip, worried, as Alfred sways to the music while in his tree. He sighs and turns away to make some tea, then pauses, tapping his finger on his chin for a moment. He thinks maybe he has some hot chocolate in his cupboards… Unsure of exactly how old it is, he brings a chair over to climb, carefully standing on it so he can search the taller shelves. He spots the packages he'd remembered and grabs them, carefully stepping down from the chair before he sets to work, pouring water into mugs and then stirring in the hot chocolate. He puts it in the microwave with a happy smile. It's not exactly the same as what Alfred had done, what with the actual chocolate and spices he mixed into a hot pan, but it would have to do, since Alfred refused to tell him what he'd done to make it so delicious.

While the mugs warm up in the microwave, he walks over to watch from the window in his living room again. Alfred hops down from the tree with little thought towards how high up he was, then walks over to the boxes in his car; he pulls a few items out and sets them carefully around the yard; a wire family of polar bears with Santa hats and presents that will light up later tonight; a few giant ornaments to hang in the tree along with the lights; and finally a few stakes to tap in the ground, all individual letters that spell out ' !'. Arthur smiles a bit. As much as he was annoyed about being woken up, he had to admit, this was incredibly thoughtful. Yet again. Alfred never stopped being amazing to Arthur, as much as he tried to play it off. He was so kind and just wanted him to be happy during Christmas. It was more than anyone had ever done for him, and gave Arthur butterflies in his stomach.

The microwave beeps as Alfred brings over a ladder to the front of the house and climbs up. He starts tapping in light hooks into the gutters, stringing lights on the front of his house, before he moves onto the next few feet of gutter. Arthur returns to the kitchen and pulls out the hot mugs. He gives a little stir once more and then pulls on his boots and his jacket before he walks outside with the hot chocolate.

"Merry Christmas darling… We're apart, that's true... But I can dream, and in my dreams, I'm Christmasing with you..." Alfred sings along softly to Karen Carpenter, carefully placing the lights in the hooks before he climbs down the ladder again. Arthur takes a moment to admire his voice while he climbs down, carefully stepping through the inch or so of snow to meet him. When he reaches the bottom, he grins over at Arthur, then gasps at the hot chocolate.

"Oh, Artie! Hot chocolate?" He carefully takes the mug with one of his gloved hands, blows on it, then smiles at Arthur. "You didn't have to do this!"

"Yes, well…" Arthur looks down at his mug with a shrug. "It's very cold out and I saw you only had a light jacket on, so I figured you could use a bit of warmth…" He admits, fidgeting with his own mug of hot chocolate, a bit embarrassed. Alfred smiles and goes to take a drink, but Arthur stops him.

"Wait, um… Before you drink it, I just want to remind you that _you_ never told me your secret recipe, so… so it's probably not as good as yours… but…"

"Relax, Artie. I love all kinds of hot chocolate! It's warm, it's chocolate, what's not to like?" He takes a drink and hums happily. "Mmm… perfect." Arthur rolls his eyes.

"You don't have to pretend just to make me happy."

"I'm not! Like I said, all hot chocolate is great." He takes another drink and then smiles at Arthur. "Thank you, Artie." Arthur smiles slightly and takes a sip of his own mug; he was right, it's not nearly as delicious as Alfred's hot chocolate, but it is still pretty good. Why did he never like to drink hot chocolate?

Taking a look around at the decorations, he hums.

"You have quite a bit of decorations, hm?"

"Yeah," Al says with a chuckle, looking around with him. "I mean, this is also some of my parent's stuff. They love Christmas just as much as Matt and I, so they always buy way more than they need. When I told them you don't have _any_ decorations, they insisted I take some of the stuff they didn't use this year." Arthur's eyebrows raise in surprise.

"That is… a lot of stuff that _they_ have then…" He murmurs, and Alfred laughs, nodding. He drinks the rest of his hot chocolate, before he hands the mug back to Arthur.

"Welp, I gotta keep goin' if I'm gonna finish today," He grins, then turns back around to the ladder. Arthur nods and returns to the porch, but he stands there and watches while he finishes his hot chocolate.

Alfred climbs back up the ladder, quickly, so as to use the most of his time decorating as he can. He taps a few of the hooks into the gutters close enough to him, hooking the lights into them before he ponders going back down to move the ladder over again. He decides he can probably reach the last bit of the gutters from here, and reaches over; but he can't quite make it. Now determined, he raises his right leg in order to try and push off with his left leg and reach further. Unfortunately, his foot slips off of its hold, and he falls.

Arthur gasps and quickly sets down the mugs of hot chocolate, running over to Alfred as he lays, motionless, in the snow.

"Alfred!" He kneels beside him, carefully taking his face in his hands and tapping his cheeks, lightly but urgently. "Oh no, oh my God, Alfred, are you okay?" Slowly, blue eyes blink open, and Arthur sighs a breath of relief.

"What… happened…?" He murmurs, blinking rapidly, before his eyes narrow at the bright sun above him. "Where am I?"

"You fell off the ladder, you imbecile. You should have been more careful!" Arthur scolds, then bites his lip. "C'mon, let's get you to the hospital." He carefully helps Alfred to his feet after assessing if he'd broken anything. Thankfully, the snow broke his fall at least a little bit - but Alfred sways as he stands up and Arthur sighs.

"I think you have a concussion. Come on." Alfred nods slightly, walking carefully through the snow over to Arthur's car. Alfred manages to buckle himself in, blinking slowly at the bright lights around him and leaning his head back with a light groan. Arthur pulls out of the driveway and quickly drives towards the hospital, frowning over at Alfred worriedly every now and then. He looks around with bleary eyes, unsure of exactly what was going on; he grows a bit anxious as he looks around the speeding car, but then turns to Arthur and calms down a bit.

"Where are we?" He mumbles for the fifth time to Arthur, who sighs.

"My car."

"Oh…" He pauses then frowns at him. "Where are we going?"

"The hospital."

"Why?"

"You fell and I think you have a concussion." He says, a bit short because he's a little bit irritated. He knows Alfred just hit his head but he can't help but feel frustrated.

They quickly make their way over to the hospital, Alfred blinking, confused every now and again at everything that was happening. They have to sit in the waiting room for a little while, and Alfred continues to check with Arthur every now and then about where they are and what's happening. Arthur bites his tongue to keep from snapping every time, and calmly reminds him while he fills out the paperwork. He easily answers each of the questions and feels a little bit silly that he knows all of the answers, like when his birthday is, who his emergency contacts are, when his last doctors visit was…

A nurse comes out to take them in to see a doctor and Arthur sighs in relief.

Waiting in the doctor's office, Arthur bounces his leg nervously in the chair next to the examining table. A few times Alfred reaches over to Arthur and just smiles at him, like a drugged child looking up at their parent happily. It makes Arthur laugh a bit, which makes him feel even more guilty. If he'd denied the decorations, maybe he wouldn't have hurt himself. Or maybe if he'd told him, demanded that he be careful, that he not hang off of the ladder with only one foot... Maybe they could have just gone to get coffee or something, or… He sighs. He knew this wasn't his fault, but he still felt horrible. After everything Alfred had been doing to help Arthur, he gets hurt as a result. All Alfred wanted to do was make his house more festive, and now they're waiting to see if anything truly terrible happened to Alfred other than a mild concussion. God, Arthur hopes that's all it is...

"Alright, Mr. Jones…" The doctor says as he enters the room. "Seems you didn't break anything, thankfully. You've got strong bones there." He laughs heartily and Alfred just looks on, unblinking. The doctor coughs awkwardly and nods.

"Right, well, um, Mr. Kirkland, it's just a mild concussion. He should be fine within a few hours, but if we can help it, he shouldn't be left alone for the day, just to make sure he doesn't do anything too loopy," The doctor laughs again, but Arthur just stares at him with his lips in a thin line. He didn't think this was very funny. "Ah, does he… have anyone he lives with?" Arthur looks over at Alfred and nods.

"I'll take care of him. Thank you."

The doctor tells him to let him rest for a while but to wake him up every few hours to make sure he wasn't getting worse, then sends them on their way. Alfred seems to be a bit better already, standing up straight and walking just fine, save for a few stumbles if he isn't paying attention. He blinks at any sort of harsh light and shies away from loud noises, but other than a small headache Alfred feels fine. Even so, Arthur drives him back to his own house, frowning at the lights hanging down from the edge of the ladder where they'd fallen after Alfred let go of them, and brings him to his bedroom, setting him up to rest for a few hours. Alfred smiles a bit blearily at Arthur as he fluffs the pillow behind his head.

"I'm fine, Arthur, really. You don't have to look after me like I'm your patient." Arthur huffs and stands on the side of the bed with his hands on his hips.

"This is my fault, so yes I do."

"What? _I_ fell off the ladder, Artie." He laughs, then winces as it makes his head hurt. Arthur sits down on the bed at this and examines his eyes with a frown, hand on one of his cheeks to move his head carefully from side to side. "Really, Arthur, it's okay."

"No, it's not. It's… you wouldn't have even done that if it weren't for me, so... "

"I could have fallen off the ladder at my parent's house, y'know-"

" _Yes_ , but you _didn't_." Arthur says sternly, glowering at Alfred. "I just… I feel terrible. I'm really sorry you got hurt because of me." Alfred smiles and pats his hand as he reaches up to feel his cheeks, checking for a temperature. He doesn't really know what to expect, so he's just checking everything.

"It's okay, Arthur. I'll be fine after today." Arthur sighs and nods, looking down at his hands as he pulls them back after a moment. They sit for a moment, Alfred watching as Arthur decides whether or not he should leave him alone. He was supposed to make sure the other didn't sleep for too long an interval, so he didn't want to leave. But he also felt… a bit awkward, worried the other man didn't want him to be there. He knew Alfred said it was fine, but was it really?

"Um… Do you…" He mutters after a second, then clears his throat. "Do you want some water…? Or, uh, soup?" He stands up again and makes his way towards the door, but Alfred calls out to him.

"Arthur," He says with a small laugh. "It's fine. I don't need anything." They pause again and Arthur looks around, nervously, unsure what to do if he wasn't meant to take care of him.

"Why don't you just… come sit with me?" He says, smiling. Arthur looks up and pauses, before he nods, standing up and rounding the bed. He carefully sits next to Alfred, trying not to rouse his precarious pillow-fort-esque situation, sitting almost on the edge of the bed as if he was either waiting to jump up and get Alfred whatever he wanted, or to give Alfred as much room on the bed as he needed tor est. He places his hands in his lap and looks down at them, still nervous and worried.

"Um…" He mumbles, then looks up at the TV in his room. "We could… watch a movie?" Alfred nods a bit tiredly, and Arthur takes the remotes to his left, turning on the TV and then turning to Netflix. He decides on one of the numerous Christmas movies it has, then settles in next to Alfred again.

Within a few hours, Alfred has leaned on Arthur's shoulder, yawning. Arthur's absorbed in the movie, but his yawn brings his attention back over to him. With a chuckle, he reaches over and pats the cheek not smooshed into his shoulder.

"You should rest, Alfred," He says quietly. Alfred whines a bit.

"No… wanna stay up with you…" He says and Arthur can't help but blush. He nods, settling into the bed a bit more, if for nothing but to make the other man a bit more comfortable as he rests on him. They remain in silence for a few minutes, before Alfred looks up at Arthur a bit curiously.

"I, um... " He says quietly. Arthur turns to him. "I know I've probably asked before, but…" He goes silent and the other man gently nudges him with his shoulder.

"Go on, what is it?"

"Why… don't you like Christmas, anyway?"

Arthur is silent, and so is Alfred. He knows he hasn't upset the other man - he would have cursed him out and maybe left if he had - but he didn't want to push the issue any farther. He knew that Arthur got jumpy whenever he asked about his past, or his family, or his interests, really. Anything about himself that Arthur didn't offer up freely was something Alfred couldn't ask about. He'd learned that the first year they became actual friends, that if Arthur didn't want to talk about something, he was _not_ going to talk about something. But the silence that ensued after he asked his question to Alfred that he was just thinking about his answer, deciding how to put it or deciding whether or not he did want to answer it.

"I…" Arthur tries to think of something to say, struggling with how to put it. "I've just… never had one." Alfred wants to ask what he means, but he's worried that if he says anything, Arthur will say nevermind, forget it, and never speak of this conversation again. So instead he continues waiting in silence, with his eyes on the movie while his head rests on the other man's shoulder, while Arthur tries to figure out how to explain exactly why he didn't like Christmas.

"My parents thought… that it was a silly holiday. They didn't like the expectation of having to get all of us gifts, so they just… never gave us anything. And they were busy all the time so we never _did_ any Christmas-y things…" He finally says quietly, before he sighs. "I wanted to have a Christmas, just like all of my other friends and classmates. I always had to lie about how my holiday was, because my parents refused to get us presents or do anything holiday-like." He says with a roll of his eyes, before he looks up and notices that Alfred had sat up and turned towards him, listening intently, instead of watching the movie. Arthur bites his lip and looks away, embarrassed. He wants to stop talking, wants to ignore Alfred's sad look, wants to just keep watching the movie as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't just explained to Alfred why he was so bitter during the Christmas season, but he also...

"I was so envious of everyone that did get to have a good Christmas, I think I just… used my parents justifications about why we didn't celebrate it to… explain why I hated it…"

"Like, what you told me when I asked you before we started this bet?" Alfred asks quietly, smiling bashfully at him. Arthur laughs and nods, picking at lint on the blanket.

"Precisely. They told us that it was a selfish holiday, that it was rubbish and annoying. But when I grew up and they demanded gifts from me, to make up for being such a needy child," he says sarcastically, looking over at Alfred with an annoyed look. "I knew it was really because they just didn't want to have to spend money on us if they didn't need to."

Alfred looks down at the blanket along with Arthur, unsure of how to proceed. He didn't want to stop showing Arthur different parts of Christmas that he loved, but he also didn't want to push him too far. He just… wanted to spend time with Arthur, but how on Earth was he supposed to say that when Arthur was so upset that his employees thought they were dating in the first place?

"I'm sorry," The Brit says after a moment of silence, laughing a bit nervously. "It's… it's silly, really… there are thousands of children who suffer far more than I ever did, so…"

"What?" Alfred finally looks up and frowns at him. "Artie, just because someone else may have had it worse, doesn't mean that your experiences are any less valid." The Brit frowns at him and tries to sputter a response, but he can't come up with anything worthwhile. Instead, he looks back down at the blanket again and just sighs.

"There was… one Christmas where I wanted something more than anything in the world. It was a rare tea set, one you could only find in my hometown, with beautiful flowers on it. It was white with a golden handle, and it matched the tea cups, and it had roses and baby's breaths and... and… oh, Alfred, it was so beautiful… I told my parents that it would be practical, because I could serve people tea from it when we had guests over, but... "

"They didn't believe you?" Arthur laughs a bit sadly.

"Hardly. They knew I just wanted it for myself. So they ignored my request and instead gave me coal for being so selfish. They got my hopes up by wrapping a bunch of presents, and then there was _coal_ in them. They told me that I hadn't been good enough to _earn_ a present." He hisses, then sighs. "I never asked for anything again…"

"Fuck, Artie…" Alfred lets out a big sigh, glancing around the room before he turns back with a laugh. "Your parents fucking _suck_." Arthur laughs a bit and nods.

"You're telling me. One year for my birthday they got me a one way ticket to Scotland so my brother could take care of me while they went backpacking around Europe." Alfred scoffs and shakes his head, absolutely astonished that someone so horrible could have a child as wonderful as Arthur.

"I'm really sorry, Arthur." He says, reaching over and placing his hand on top of Arthur's. Arthur looks up, with slightly surprised eyes, and freezes. He stares over at Alfred and feels his stomach turn over and over and over again, his breath feels shallow, and he can't stop looking at Alfred's fucking _eyes_ , goddammit, _look away, you bloody imbecile._

"Um," Arthur pulls his hand away and quickly stands up. "You should rest. Really, you've been sitting up for too long." Alfred blinks a bit, then nods, laying back down slowly. The other man reaches over and pulls the blankets up over his torso, then hands him the remote to his TV.

"I'll be downstairs if you need anything, just yell for me, alright?" He says quickly, then turns away before Alfred can say anything else and heads down the stairs.

He grabs a book from his bookshelf, doesn't even pay attention to what the book is, and sits down in his armchair, pulling his feet up and taking a deep breath. Trying to get lost in the story, he eventually calms down and manages to forget all that he just divulged to the other man. Except… every time he thinks about the fact that he's calmed down again, he remembers why he was upset, and he becomes upset again. Groaning, he places the book on his face and lays back against the arms of the chair.

Why did he tell Alfred all of that? He's never told anyone that, even people he's been sleeping with. No one he's ever grown at all attached to as learned about his shitty childhood. Although… they've never asked... He supposes he's never really been as close to anyone as he is with Alfred, but… it was odd. He felt perfectly fine telling Alfred everything about his childhood until he realized he told him _everything_ about his childhood. It was why he didn't want to say much about his life in the first place, whereas Alfred told him everything. Once he told someone anything about his old life in the UK, they'd pity him, and it would change the whole relationship dynamic. The rest of their friendship would be spent with Alfred always trying to make him happy, always walking on eggshells around him, always so worried he'd invoke some sort of memory of his childhood and that he'd make it worse. He could only imagine how awkward every conversation with his friend would be from now on, at least until he couldn't take it anymore, and then they would stop hanging out and then Arthur would go back to spending his nights alone, and…

He just had to ruin _every_ relationship, _every_ friendship, didn't he?

"Artie…!" Alfred calls from upstairs in his bedroom with a slight whine. Arthur holds back a sigh and stands up, putting the book down and walking upstairs to find out what he wanted. He stands in the doorway and just raises an eyebrow at the other man, who pouts over at him and pats the bed.

"I'm lonely." He says simply, continuously patting the bed while Arthur just stares at him. With a small sigh through a small smile, the other man walks over to the bed and lays down beside him. Laying back against the pillows so they can still watch the movie, Alfred lays his head down on Arthur's shoulder again and sighs happily.

"Thanks, Artie." He says after a moment and Arthur nods.

"Of course. Like I said, you've been hurt because of me, so-"

"No, I meant for telling me all of that. I know it probably took a lot for you to tell me anything about your life before you came here, so… I just wanted to thank you for trusting me enough to tell me. And don't worry, I still think you're a bit of an asshole. But I still want to be your friend." Arthur blinks, surprised, and turns to look over at Alfred, but he can't really get a good angle because Alfred refuses to move from his shoulder, as if he's afraid he'll leave if given the chance. He can tell Alfred is grinning and joking, though, so instead of retaliating, Arthur smiles and relaxes again, watching as the people on the TV screen count down to the Christmas tree being lit up. He crinkles his nose.

"I've never understood why people get so excited about going to see lights be turned on, just because it's on a Christmas tree."

"Are you kiddin' me?"

"No. It doesn't seem all that amazing, but it's in almost every single one of these movies. And everyone is always so excited to do it." Alfred pauses, before he grins and sits up quickly, wincing as it makes his headache pound. He ignores Arthur's scolding frown.

"There's a Christmas tree lighting ceremony in the next town over. My family and I usually travel over there to join in the festivities. You should come with." Arthur lightly bites his lip in thought. His family? He worries it'll be a bit awkward, meeting his whole family, but he _is_ also curious about the lighting ceremonies...

"Come on!" Alfred says, pushing on the mattress near Arthur's thighs to shake him a bit. "You'll get why it's so amazing if you come with me!" The Brit sighs and shrugs.

"I've done everything else you've asked of me. Why not?" Alfred lays back down triumphantly.

"Great. You'll see, it's really wonderful. It's pretty and you get hot chocolate…" He yawns and pulls the blankets up higher. "Matt always brings treats when we go... Ooh, and sometimes there's games…!"

"Alright, alright, go to sleep, moron…"

"M'not a moron…" He replies, before yawning again. "... excited…"

Arthur smiles over at him, reaching for the remote to turn the sound down carefully. He continues watching the movie, happily keeping him company even though Alfred had already fallen asleep.

* * *

 _Ahhhh, I tried so hard to write and finish this before Christmas but I was so busy these past couple of days, between work and hanging out with friends and family, so I'm sorry that this is going to continue past Christmas! Haha._

 _Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Don't forget to leave a review! :D_


	8. Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree

Standing nervously in the cold, Alfred stuffs his hands into his pockets and smiles at all the children giggling and shouting and gabbing with their parents. It was about half an hour to the countdown to the lighting ceremony, and he was awaiting Arthur's arrival while standing with his brother, butterflies in his stomach preventing him from enjoying any hot chocolate. Matthew looked on with a knowing smile, walking closer to him to stand with one hand around a cup of hot chocolate and his other hand in his pocket.

"So," Matthew starts, making Alfred jump because he hadn't even noticed him walk over, too focussed on looking for Arthur. "You excited?"

"Huh?" Alfred says absentmindedly as he turns back to look towards the entrance to the park.

"Y'know. For the lighting ceremony." When Alfred doesn't respond, Matthew smirks a bit and clears his throat. "Or, y'know, for Arthur?" Alfred looks over with a bright blush and stammers a response.

"W-Well, yeah, I-I'm excited for him to… y'know, to see the lights for the first time, y'know?" Matthew chuckles and nods, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

"You sure you don't want any hot chocolate? It's really good."

"Nah, I'm good." Matthew hums, pretending to be surprised.

"Really? You _always_ have hot chocolate, Al. Are you feeling okay?" He asks quietly, feigning worry for his younger brother. "Maybe you should head home-"

"No!" Alfred clears his throat, a bit embarrassed at the outburst, as he glances at Matthew's wide eyes. "Um… Nah, I'm just… waiting for Arthur, so…"

Matthew presses his lips together and nods. He holds back a chuckle as he turns away from Alfred and heads back over to his date, who grins over at him and welcomes Matthew into his arms, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"How'd it go?"

"Mmm…" Matthew muses over the question for a second, glancing over at his brother, who'd turned back to watch the entrance eagerly, standing up on his tiptoes as if he wouldn't be able to see the other, shorter man if he didn't; he turns back with a wide grin. "I think... my brother is in love." Gilbert responds with a squeeze of his shoulders, before they both turn back to wait for the ceremony to begin.

Meanwhile, Alfred breaks into a huge grin as he finally sees the short blonde man walk into the park, arms crossed as if he's trying to conserve heat, and looking around the crowds for someone familiar. Al waves his arms and tries to get his attention, calling his name when Arthur finally turns and smiles.

"Artie!" He puts down his arms as Arthur heads over. "Hey! You made it!"

"Of course I did. I don't make it a habit of being late."

"No, but I thought maybe you'd psych yourself out and not show up at all." Al says with a small smirk. The Brit frowns and looks over at him, a bit indignant.

"I also don't make it a habit of breaking my promises, especially when they're made to someone who'd just hit their head on my property." Alfred laughs, and Arthur reaches over to brush his hair away from the back of his head, checking for any signs of injury. "Speaking of, how are you feeling?" Alfred brushes away the hand and grins, ignoring the burning in his cheeks.

"Fine! C'mon, let's go get hot chocolate!" He grabs the other's hand and yanks him in the direction of the multiple stands serving drinks. He waits in line for a few moments, then buys two large hot chocolates, and hands one to Arthur, who thanks him through his frustrated smile; he'd given up on arguing about buying his own concessions but that didn't mean he couldn't be annoyed about it. Taking a drink, Arthur looks around.

"So, this is… cold." He says, trying to think of any positive word he can think of for the large crowds of children running around, playing games and throwing snowballs at each other. Al nudges his shoulder with his own, the wide grin still ever present on his face.

"C'mon, Arthur. Remember when you helped me with the…" He pauses and whispers. "...S-A-N-T-A stuff?" Arthur rolls his eyes at him; half of these kids were at least eight years old, meaning they know fully well how to spell. He nods anyway. "This is kinda like that. I mean, there's no Santa here, but there's still that feeling of magic, y'know? And anyway, most of these kids have been coming since they were super little, so it's that feeling of nostalgia and tradition." Arthur looks around for a second and nods; all the kids had the widest grins on their faces, even when being pushed into the snow or being pelted with snowballs. Standing near their parents, they'd tug on their jackets and anxiously jump in place, begging them to make time go faster so the tree would light already. The older kids sat around, talking and laughing and drinking hot chocolate, and the older adults were doing the same, for the most part. Even Alfred looked happier than he ever usually did, even though he wouldn't stop looking at Arthur. The Brit finally shoves his shoulder and rolls his eyes.

"Alright, I get it. I get the tradition element, but I still just don't see why lighting a tree gathers such a crowd." Alfred nods and shrugs.

"Like I said; you'll see." Arthur sighs and looks at him with an annoyed face, to which Al just chuckles. "C'mon, you should come meet Matthew! Oh, and he brought his date! He's super cool." Alfred grabs his hand once again and drags him over to Matthew, who stands looking up at the tree with a wistful look, arm wrapped around someone else's arm, with-... _is that white hair?_ Arthur thinks, staring at the back of the other man's head. Al stops to the right and a bit in front of the other two, gesturing towards the other blonde haired man with a grin.

"This is my brother, Matthew, and this is his date, Gilbert. Guys, this is Arthur, my, um… friend," Al looks a bit confused, as if he isn't sure if he should introduce him as his boss or his friend, or… something. Arthur formally holds out a hand and Matthew and Gilbert shake it in turn.

"So, _you're_ the famous Arthur." Matthew says with a small smirk, ignoring the glare from Alfred. The Brit shrugs and smiles politely.

"And _you're_ the famous Matthew. It's nice to finally put a face to the name."

"Ah, so he's said a lot about the both of us to each of us, hm?"

"Yes, so it seems." Arthur tries to hold back a pleased smile but it shines through bright as day. "Only good things, I hope."

"Ditto." Matthew grins and then turns to Gilbert to exchange smirks while Arthur turns to address Alfred.

"Are your parents here as well?"

"Yeah! But they help out with the tree lighting and everything, so we don't normally see them until afterwards." He answers with a chuckle, wrapping both hands around his hot chocolate with a smile to try and warm them up. He looks over and notices Arthur shivering a bit and frowns. "You cold?"

"Ah, um, well… yes, it's a… a bit colder than I thought it would be." He holds his hot chocolate close, hoping that the heat from the drink would warm his core and unfreeze his fingers. Alfred looks at him and realizes that he'd just worn a wool, but light jacket and he didn't even have a hat. He frowns and looks around, then grins as he grabs a Santa hat off of a snowman near them; he brushes off the bit of snow that came with it, then sets it on Arthur's head, carefully covering his ears.

"There," He says, putting his free hand on his hip happily. "Better?" Arthur scrunches up his nose and pulls the hat down a bit more before he shrugs.

"Not really. But thank you." Arthur shivers once more and takes a sip of the hot chocolate; maybe if he had more warm liquid in his stomach that would warm him up? He notices Alfred pout and glance around, looking for anything else he could add to his attire to warm him up. Unfortunately, the lady who usually sells her homemade hats, scarves, and gloves hadn't made it this year. There wasn't any extra bits of warm clothing on any of the other snowmen around them, so...

Suddenly, arms are around Arthur, and he slowly realizes that he's not as cold anymore. He blinks as he realizes the implications of their positions, with Alfred behind him and his arms wrapped around him, both cups of hot chocolate dangerously close, and the taller man's head on top of his own. Disgruntled, he tries to shove Alfred back with a displeased grunt.

"Is not appearing like a couple worth the risk of hypothermia, Artie?" Al asks, slightly teasingly, without even needing to hear Arthur's complaints. With a blush, Art huffs and crosses his arms. Slowly, he leans back into the other man, trying to get comfortable, just happy to not be shivering anymore. As much as he hated to admit it, he at least felt as if he wouldn't freeze to death like this, so he would put up with whatever consequences there may be; and besides, looking around at all of the people around them, he didn't see anyone he knew, and, even if he did, no one was staring at them like he'd have thought. He takes slow sips of the hot chocolate, glancing around for a few more minutes before he can finally relax. Once again, Alfred was right. He really hated when Alfred was right.

After a bit, a voice comes over the loudspeaker announcing that they would be beginning the lighting ceremony shortly. Everyone starts to round up around the tree, and Arthur fidgets enough so Alfred finally pulls away, giving him a smile as he stands by his side. Waiting for the lights, Arthur listens as the crowd murmurs around them, excitedly and anxiously fidgeting in place and looking around at their parents, almost like they're unsure of what to do. Younger kids tug at their parents' sleeves and beg to be picked up so they may have a better view of the tree, teenagers look around, wondering why they're even there in the first place before glancing at their phones again, and young adults cuddle closer and murmur sweet things to each other with small smiles and warm, fuzzy feelings. _The whole atmosphere feels exactly how the movies make it out to be_ , he thinks, and scoots a bit closer to Alfred, wishing he still had the warm arms around him for the heat, but too embarrassed to admit he liked it and wanted him close again. Al happily obliges him, neither moving away nor pulling him closer and embarrassing him, despite how much he wanted to.

"Alright everyone," The voice sounds again. "Ready?" The crowd yells in unison and the voice over the loudspeakers takes that as a yes.

"3… 2… 1…" Everyone cheers as the lights turn on the tree from the bottom to the top, until finally the star at the very top of the tree lights up, twinkling in the night sky. Alfred cheers for a moment, then looks over and sees Arthur staring with star-struck eyes. His mouth is open slightly, surprised at how positively beautiful it is, stuck without words or a thought or anything at all. His grip is loose on his hot chocolate, though he's still hanging on reflexively, and he glances around at all of the lights around them that'd turned on along with the tree. The crowd cheers and claps for a moment, looking at the lights, before they disperse and go to join some of the other activities around them; Arthur remains transfixed, unable to tear his gaze away from the tree. The multicolored lights bounce off of its simple decorations and make the tree seem to glow. Alfred snorts a little bit, amused by how transfixed the other man is, bringing Arthur out of his trance.

"So?" He asks with a small smirk. Arthur closes his mouth and looks over at him with a small blush. He clears his throat, thinks about giving a retort to wipe his smug look off of his face, but knows he'd been caught staring for so long that it wasn't worth it. Plus, it just didn't seem right to lie about such a beautiful thing.

"It's… _magical_."

Alfred blinks in surprise, shocked that Arthur would actually admit to liking something. Arthur turns to raise a large eyebrow at him as he brings the hot chocolate up to his mouth to finish it off.

"What?"

"Nothing, I'm just…" He pauses, watches as Arthur carefully throws away the disposable cup, then turns back to stare at the tree again with an awed smile. "... glad you liked it." Arthur turns to smile at him and Alfred returns it, before he drinks the rest of his hot chocolate as well. All of a sudden, a snowball nails Alfred square in the back, and he turns around to see the culprit; Matthew is standing with a second snowball in his hand, grinning as he tosses it up and down, other hand on his cocked hip and Gilbert standing close by with more snowballs to throw.

"C'mon, lovebirds," Alfred glares at him. Arthur blushes. "You just gonna stand around gawking at the tree all night, or what?" With a smirk, Arthur leans down and packs some snow into a ball, before throwing it back at him. It misses by a mile and Matthew laughs when Arthur huffs angrily at himself, throws the snowball in his hand at Alfred's chest, then runs away; Gilbert quickly scrambles to follow him, laughing as well. Al turns to Arthur with a grin and tosses his empty cup away, reaching down to grab some snow and pack it into a snowball, before he runs after his brother. Arthur follows him, though a bit slower, unsure of how much help he would be in this situation, but wanting to be included.

"To your right!" Arthur shouts when Alfred stops, having lost sight of his brother; he hides behind Alfred's tall figure as Matthew jumps out from hiding to toss snowballs in their direction. Alfred lunges away, choosing instead to hide behind his own snowbank and quickly tosses one back at him. _He's very skilled at this_ , Arthur thinks, slightly surprised yet somehow proud, as he gazes up at him from his hiding spot. He watches as Alfred expertly packs a few snowballs and throws them three in a row, trying to toss it over Matthew's snowbank and hit him while he's hiding. Matthew yelps in response and blindly throws one along with Gilbert. Arthur watches for a few seconds before kneels down to pack more snow; he decides he can provide ammunition for the one obviously better at aiming and throwing, staying down beside him to pack snow while simultaneously looking out for the other two. He calls out Gilbert in front of them and Alfred throws a snowball, before reaching down to grab another. Arthur begins to set up a pile of snowballs, grinning and laughing as he dodges snowballs from Matthew and Gilbert. He shouts out directions as he sees Gilbert move around the snowbanks, hiding and dodging Alfred's amazing aim. Alfred manages to start a rhythm that keeps Matthew and Gilbert down for a while, hiding to keep from being pelted with snowball after snowball; when he finally stops to break the pattern, bright red eyes peek out, then dart back down with an 'eek!' as Alfred throws another snowball. For a minute or two, Arthur feels the giddy childish glee he hadn't felt since he was very young. Very, _very_ young. He's ecstatic to be here with Alfred, with his brother, with new people, and he finally, _finally_ feels as though he's starting to underst-

Suddenly, a snowball nails him in the side of the head and the force of it knocks him over (albeit mostly from surprise). He lays on the ground for a moment while he listens to Alfred call for a time-out after he realizes he'd been knocked over; he decides to milk this for all it's worth, placing his hand over his eye with a small groan. Alfred quickly leans over him and frowns, pulling him into a sitting position as Matthew and Gilbert make their way over.

"You alright, Artie?"

"Yeah, it just…" He hisses as he sits up and looks up with his left eye, eyebrows pulled together as if he was in immense pain. "...got my eye is all…" Matthew and Gilbert stand behind Alfred, frowning and wiping snow off of their coats and hats.

"Oh, shit, man, I'm sorry," Gilbert says, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling terrible. "That was my shot. I was trying to get Alfred's dick, to be honest. Thought it would be funny…" He says with a small laugh and Matthew pats his back.

"It would've been," Matthew agrees, ignoring Alfred's frustrated look. He smiles apologetically at Arthur. "But we're sorry, Arthur. We'll go get you a warm cloth for your eye, that should help." They turn away, Gilbert taking a second to apologize again, and leave Alfred alone with Arthur, who frowns and places his hand on the cheek opposite his "hurt" eye.

"I'm sorry, Arthur. How bad is it?" Arthur takes his hand off of his eye with a grin.

"Oh, it's fine." Alfred gasps as he realizes the fact that there was, in fact, nothing wrong with his eye. "They hit me in the head, but I figured this would make them feel bad for throwing snowballs at us while we were unsuspecting in the first place."

"You… conniving little bastard." Alfred says, slowly grinning. Arthur shrugs with a self-satisfied smirk, before gasping and freezing in place when Alfred smashes a large snowball on top of his head.

"You son of a-" Alfred jumps up and rushes off, running away from Arthur as he chases him. The Brit quickly leans down and grabs a fistful of snow, not bothering to form it into a ball but instead throwing it at Alfred as hard as he can. It hits his back and he laughs, leaning down to throw one back at him, although it's a bit halfhearted. They follow each other for a while, sometimes stopping to hide behind something in order to throw some more snowballs, before starting to chase the other again. The taller man rounds a corner and waits for Arthur to follow him; when he does, he reaches out and grabs his shoulders, intending to spook him and maybe shove some snow into his jacket as a joke, but slips on the ice and pulls Arthur down with him. They land on top of each other, Alfred on top of him with their chests touching and heads next to each other. Slowly, after gathering himself and dusting off the confusion of the fall, Alfred lifts his head up and smiles sheepishly down at him, holding himself up on his hands on either side of Arthur's head. He sits up on Arthur's stomach but otherwise doesn't move.

"Sorry." Arthur just stares up at him before he realizes he should probably respond. He shakes his head, unable to come up with words because of how damned close Alfred is. Looking up at the other man, illuminated by the tree's lights behind him, the wide, toothy grin shining down on him, he feels the sort of butterflies in his stomach he hasn't felt since he was probably fifteen. He feels his warm breath on his face, feels that warm fuzziness in his stomach like he did the first time Alfred took him out to participate in Christmas activities, feels his chest on top of his own and somehow _doesn't_ feel claustrophobic. He doesn't worry about people looking at them, he doesn't worry about how he looks to Alfred, flushed and full of snow and just staring at him; he doesn't worry about what's going to happen afterwards, he just stares at Alfred, and Alfred stares back. His glasses had fallen off in the fall, and for the first time, he notices that Alfred's eyes aren't just blue. They're sky blue. A beautiful blue. A baby blue with just a tint of green, maybe? He felt like he was melting underneath Alfred's sturdy body, yet frozen at the same time, unable to come up with anything to say, with anything to do. He wanted to move but he didn't. He wanted to say something, but he didn't. He didn't want to ruin this moment before it actually ended, but at the same time he wanted a million different things to happen. He wanted... he couldn't figure out what he wanted. Time feels like it slowed down. He feels like he's the only person in the world with Alfred, and almost wishes they could stay this way for so much longer. His head was swirling with thoughts and Alfred leaning down was only making it worse-

Wait. Leaning down? Suddenly he can feel every inch of Alfred's body against his own, and, oh God, _is_ he leaning down? No, he's just adjusting- no, no, he is, he's leaning down, and Arthur isn't stopping him, kind of wants him to lean down to meet him halfway, kind of wants him to lay with him in this snowbank all night, kind of wants him to-

"There you are!" Suddenly the weight on his stomach has disappeared and Alfred is standing up, offering a hand to the blushing buffoon still laying in the snowbank, covered in snow. Arthur looks over at Matthew and Gilbert as they stand next to them, still looking on apologetically. Gilbert holds a warm towel in his hands and Matthew holds two more hot chocolates. "We got the…" He trails off as he takes note of the flushed faces of his brother and his friend before him, slowly smirking as hard as he tries to hide it.

"Um, yeah, sorry," Alfred starts, clapping his hands to get the snow off of his gloves. "About that; apparently Arthur was blushi- bluffing!" He shouts, cheeks growing darker yet. Matthew nods and shrugs.

"Hm… well, alright, I don't feel as bad then. These hot chocolates are for us, then," He says, handing one to Gilbert with a grin; the other man takes it with an equally as knowing grin and tips it his way before he takes a sip. He tosses the towel away and puts his other hand into Matthew's, squeezing it as Matthew turns to address the other two again.

"Have you seen mom and dad yet?" Matthew asks from behind his cup, trying his best to hide his ever-present smirk.

"Matthew darling~!" A voice calls out from behind Alfred and Arthur and they turn around.

"Speak of the devil..." Matthew murmurs, turning to great his parents as they rush forward to wrap them both in tight hugs. Alfred grins and envelops a smaller woman in his arms, before giving a small, somewhat halfhearted but nevertheless affectionate hug to a taller man. The woman grins up at him through her wiry glasses before she turns and brushes down Matthew's hair, making some remark about how long it'd gone, before hugging him tightly as well. Arthur smiles as he notices the subtle similarities between them; the man, presumably their father, was much more reserved but just as happy as their mother as he addressed his children. Both had bright blue eyes and blonde hair, and were rather tall. It was as if they had clones of themselves that didn't turn out just perfect, and yet it _was_ perfect, in some other way. Alfred turns and smiles at Arthur, who stands off to the side, a bit confused and, now, cold, feeling rather out of place yet again.

"Oh, Gilbert, it's so nice to see you again!" The woman coos, delivering another hug, kissing both of his cheeks and then squeezing his and Matthew's hand tight. "I hope Matthew is still treating you just right!"

"Perfectly, ma'am. Like an angel," Gilbert says with a grin to his boyfriend, who rolls his eyes and then smiles warmly at his mother.

"Oh, good, good, good," She says happily as she turns to Alfred and sets her hands on her hips, looking expectantly Arthur's way. "Now are we going to get an actual introduction?" Alfred laughs a bit and gestures towards Arthur, whose eyes go wide and his back goes straight, suddenly feeling as if he had to impress her for some reason.

"Mom, dad, this is my friend Arthur. Arthur this is my mom and dad," He says somewhat more confidently this time. The woman eagerly squeals and rushes forward, capturing Arthur in her arms and squeezing him tight. Arthur jumps a bit, before he laughs nervously and pats her back, glancing at Alfred who looks back at him with a weak smile, and a shrug that says "sorry, man".

"It's so nice to finally _meet_ you! We've heard so much about you!" Alfred holds back a groan, though he closes his eyes and places his chin in his hand; the taller man pats his back with a chuckle.

"Ah, um, I see there has been lots said about me…" Arthur murmurs and the woman laughs. _S_ _he sounds exactly like Alfred_ , he thinks with a warm smile.

"Yes, yes, good things- great things! You're a _wonderful_ boss, from what I've heard!"

" _Mom_ ," Alfred pleads, making Matthew snort and hide his face in Gilbert's shoulder.

"Oh, shush Alfred, if you didn't want me saying anything to him you shouldn't have told me so much about him," She says with a dismissive wave of her hand, before she places her hands on Arthur's shoulders. "Now, Mr. _Kirkland_. Are you planning on spending Christmas eve _alone_ again?" The Brit blushes and looks around with a nervous laugh. Exactly how much had Alfred told everyone about him?

"Um… well, I-I… yes?" He guesses, unsure of what she wanted to hear. He didn't want to _lie_ to such an obviously kind woman, but he also didn't want to know exactly why she was asking, although he had an inkling. He quickly learns he guessed wrong, because she gasps, and then sets her hands on her hips, staring at him with the same look of determination that Alfred had given him when he told him he disliked Christmas.

"Well, we just _can't_ have that. You're going to have Christmas eve dinner with us!"

"Mom-" Alfred starts, but she waves her hand to cut him off.

"Shush, shush, Alfred. He has to! He's never had a proper Christmas ham! Or our famous scalloped potatoes! Or our apple pie! Oh, there's so much to prepare, I'm so excited!" She pauses and then realizes she never got an _actual_ answer from Arthur. "You… will come, won't you?" She looks so excited yet so worried he'll say no at the same time that as he glances back and forth between everyone standing around them, staring, he decides he doesn't really have a choice.

"Yes, of course, Mrs. Jones." She squeals and wraps him in another hug, happily squeezing him tight.

"Oh, good! Oh, oh, call me Helen, and this is Ned. Mr. and Mrs. Jones makes us feel so old." She laughs before she returns to Ned's arm, bouncing somewhat.

"Alright," Arthur responds with a laugh, looking over at Alfred who has hidden his entire face in his hands. Arthur snorts and then looks back at the married couple.

"Don't worry about bringing anything! We have lots of food and we'll even have drinks, and treats and _everything_! Alfred can provide you with the details, right dear?" Alfred starts to respond but she cuts him off, squealing brightly. "Oh, this is so exciting! Ned, dear, we should head home so I can start preparing tonight!" She pats his shoulder and Ned smiles, nodding silently. Arthur realizes the man hadn't said a word the entire time, just looked on silently as his wife rambled and squealed and addressed them all. They turn to leave, and Ned looks over his shoulder at Arthur.

"It was nice to meet you." He says kindly, finally. Arthur smiles politely and nods, chuckling as Helen waves before rushing off to their car to go home. Alfred walks over to Arthur.

"Is she…"

"Always like that? Yes. Always. With _everyone_." Alfred answers, and the other man laughs.

"Are all of the Joneses like this?" He asks with a grin and Alfred shakes his head, rubbing a hand down his cheek, incredibly embarrassed.

"No. Just her." Arthur laughs again and nods, pausing to look over Alfred for a moment. He watches as Alfred slowly gathers himself back together and places his hands in his pockets, looking down at him with that same damned kind, wonderful smile that he always looked at him with.

"Well… I can see where you get it."

"Get what?"

"Your… enthusiasm." Alfred winces, making Arthur laugh. "I mean, you're not nearly as... unpredictable as her, but… you're… very similar."

"How so?" Arthur shrugs.

"It's hard to describe. You just are." He smiles at him and then pulls his coat closer around him, buttoning it and adjusting the front of it. "Well, I'd better get going as well." Alfred frowns.

"Are you sure? There's lots more stuff to do here…"

"No, that's alright. I'm tired and need to get a good nights sleep if I'm going to have to sit through an entire dinner with your whole family tomorrow night." Alfred smiles sheepishly and he chuckles and puts his hands in his pockets. "I… had a lot of fun, though. Thank you for inviting me." Alfred nods and smiles somewhat wistfully as he turns and walks towards the entrance to the park. Matthew watches Alfred for a moment, before he lets go of his boyfriend's arm and slowly walks over to Alfred, so as to not pull him from his trance before Arthur has left. After a moment, he clears his throat and the taller man jumps, looking over at him.

"So… your _friend_ , huh?" Al groans and shoves his shoulder while Matthew snickers.

"Shut up…"

* * *

 _So close..._


	9. Last Christmas

Arthur stands in front of the front yard of what he assumes to be the Jones' house; Alfred had given him the address, but honestly he could have just given him vague directions on how to get there and he probably would have found it. The front yard looked a bit like how his own looked now, thanks to Alfred, but times ten. There was about three times as many lighted figurines, twice the amount of lights all along every inch of edges of the house and trees, and there was even a nativity scene set up in front of the front walk to the door. The driveway was even lined with lights. The house itself was quaint, adorable even, and probably hard to miss if it wasn't lit up with what feels like the power of a lighthouse. It was rather small, something the family probably downsized to after Al and Matt moved out; there was a beautiful front porch with its own Christmas tree, decorated with love, and even a basketball hoop with garland wrapped around it atop the garage. Amidst all the lights and Christmas decorations, the house was something he wouldn't have expected from such an exuberant woman, but he also somehow wasn't surprised. It was a cute house that was able to be decorated at every inch; Arthur couldn't have missed the house even if he tried.

With a small, astounded shake of his head, Arthur walks up the driveway and then up to the front door. He adjusts his dress shirt, a bit nervously he'd admit, and knocks on the door, putting on his best, most polite smile, just in case Mrs. Jones-er, Helen opened the door.

To his delight, it's actually Alfred.

"Hey! You made it!" Arthur nods, smiling genuinely and holding up the dish he was carrying as if to say hello without dropping it. "Oh, man, you didn't have to make anything! Didn't my mom tell you she makes a fuckin' feast every year?" Arthur laughs a bit as he steps inside, passing by Alfred's chest as he holds the door open for him. He slips off his shoes and then hands him the dish so he may take off his jacket.

"Yes, yes, she did, but it seems improper to not bring something of my own." He says, somewhat bashfully, and Alfred smiles widely down at him. He brings him into the kitchen to place the dish down on the counter next to the rest of the dishes that were ready to be served.

"Oh, Arthur! You're here, goodie goodie!" Helen calls out from near the oven, kneeling down and carefully sticking a thermometer into the ham she was trying to perfect. Arthur laughs a bit and nods, nervously glancing over at Alfred. Why did he feel the need to impress everyone here if he was just here as a friend and a guest? Helen stands up from the oven after she closes it and then looks over with a smile as wide as Alfred's as greeting, before gasping at the unknown dish on her counter.

"Arthur, darling, did you bring something? You didn't have to bring anything! We have plenty of food and you're our guest!"

"Oh I know, but I wanted to," He answers simply. Helen huffs and places her hands on her hips, before she shrugs.

"Well, the more the merrier, as they say!" She laughs heartily and Alfred sighs, embarrassed again. "Well, anyhow, Matthew and Gilbert will be here soon, Alfie, how about you take Arthur on a tour? Y'know, show him the bathrooms and all that!"

"Yes, please, thank you mom," Alfred mutters, incredibly eager to get Arthur away from his frantic mother's cooking and into a quieter setting, worried about making Arthur too overwhelmed; though, with a glance in his direction, he seemed to be handling it alright so far.

Alfred leads him through the house, showing him the dining room, then the living room and the bathroom not too far off, before he brings him upstairs and gestures into each room they pass.

"So there's the bathroom… That's Matt's room… and my parent's room... and here is my room…" Alfred seems a bit nervous, but Arthur can't figure out why. They step into the closed off room and a small chuckle escapes from his lips as he glances around at the numerous trophies atop the dresser and on the walls on shelving units.

"Quite the winner in high school, huh?" Alfred blinks and realizes his parents had placed every single trophy they owned in his room.

"Oh, God, these aren't _all_ mine. I think they, uh, maybe wanted to impress you by making you think they were…" He laughs nervously, hand on the back of his head as Arthur slowly walks by each trophy, examining the names on them. Some were actually his father's, some were his brother's, but… Alfred was too humble. It seemed like the majority of these trophies were his own. Arthur remains silent, nodding and making his way over to the bed in the center of the room.

"Well, still. Your family is all quite impressive, then."

"Yeah…" Another nervous laugh. "We were all on some sort of sports team in high school and college. Matt played a _ton_ of hockey, Dad was on the baseball and basketball team…"

"And yourself?"

"Oh! Uh, football, mostly…"

"Mostly?"

"Well, I also dabbled in baseball and basketball… and track, and, uh…" Alfred shrugs, smiling shyly. "Wrestling, tennis, and like… everything else a high school offers…" Arthur stares up at him from his seated position, taking another glance around the room before he looks back at him again.

"Wow." He says simply and Alfred takes a deep breath, sitting down beside him.

"Yeah."

"You were busy in high school then." He smiles. "Must have had lots of scholarship deals."

"I did." He doesn't say any more and Arthur raises an eyebrow, prompting him to continue. "Yeah, I did, but I, uh… didn't want them." He laughs and looks over at Arthur, who looks more confused than ever.

"Why not?"

"I wanted to become a cop." Arthur's eyebrows raise in surprise, then furrow in further confusion. That much was obvious. He was a guard in a bank, at least, and given everything else he already knew and had now learned about Alfred, it made every bit of sense that he wanted to be a police officer. So why did he look so nervous?

"Okay…" Arthur muses for a moment, looking around the room, at anything but Alfred, so as to keep him from becoming more nervous. "So…why aren't you?"

"Well... It's... kind of embarrassing. You know, usually when I tell people, they're shocked that I would take becoming a cop over a deal for a full ride in almost any college." He admits, putting his hands in his sweatshirt pockets and scuffing his feet on the floor. Arthur nods, smiling.

"I know how that feels." Alfred nods in response.

"But I did, for a while. I went through the training and everything and got a job at the local police department right out the gate."

"And?"

"And… I… didn't like it." He laughs again, hanging his head. "Like I said, it's embarrassing. I could have had a full ride through college and gotten into a thousand different leagues, but instead, I quit my police officer job and became a guard at some bank in town." Arthur looks away, with a small frown and hunches over a bit. Did he mean that he hated his job? Had he wanted to quit this entire time, but he hadn't because of the money? Or, maybe, because he had very little other choices? Arthur somehow felt horrible for the situation he was in, as if it was somehow his fault, even though he didn't know Alfred before they were already in their twenties.

"Ah, shit, I didn't mean it like that," Al says, noticing how reserved the Brit has gotten all of a sudden. "I love my job. Honestly, it's the best decision I've ever made." Alfred says, smiling over at Arthur with the happiest damned smile he's ever seen; Arthur suddenly loses his appetite staring over at Alfred.

There's a sudden ruckus downstairs as Helen greets the newcomers; they hear Gilbert greet her with a loud laugh, hear Matthew close the door and greet his own mother a bit more subdued. After a moment, Alfred stands and offers his hand to Arthur, who takes it and stands up, heading downstairs with him.

* * *

An hour later, Arthur is sitting in between Alfred, to his left, and Ned, to his right, at the head of the table. Helen is laughing uproariously at something Gilbert has said, but Arthur hasn't been paying attention. He feels as though he's going to fall asleep, stuffed beyond belief like a Thanksgiving turkey. He leans back, almost leaning to his left for something to fall asleep on, eyes half lidded and mouth curved into a small smile. Alfred leans over and whispers something to him, and he snickers. He honestly thinks he's never felt half this happy: included and full of good food and surrounded by a loving family…

"So, Arthur. Bank manager," Helen starts, holding a glass of wine and peering over at him, around Alfred, with a sly smile. "How many crazy people do you deal with on a daily basis?"

"Oh, too many to count," Arthur states and Helen laughs loudly again. Alfred smiles and reaches for his own glass of wine. "They always get so cranky during the holidays, they're _insufferable._ Once a woman asked me if she could come into the vault - which, we don't have, mind you - because she wanted to see _her_ money. She didn't trust that we still had it, and when I insisted that we had the money she had deposited, she raved about how she had marked her money every time she deposited it and wanted to see _that_ currency." Helen and Matthew almost choke on their wine in laughter.

"You're _kidding_." Gilbert demands, eyes wide and hands splayed out on the table as if he's begging Arthur to be joking around.

"I swear I'm not." Arthur says with a grin.

"He's not! I can vouch for him. I remember her, I had to escort her out and she called me a lot of mean names I cannot, in the good name of our lord Santa, repeat on this good Christmas Eve night." The entire group laughs and Alfred smiles behind his wine glass over at Arthur. He felt somewhat proud of the fact that everyone got along with Arthur, knowing that they already approved of him and would probably ask him to join them more often. He was almost giddy with happiness at this fact. Maybe it was the wine talking to him, but when he looks at Arthur's flushed cheeks and quiet smiles, he's surprised he's never done this before. Arthur fits right in, as if he should have been there all along.

After a moment of idle chit-chat, Helen sighs and pats her stomach.

"Well, I'm stuffed but these dishes aren't going to wash themselves." She stands and starts gathering dishes and all but Gilbert and Ned help; Helen realizes that the newest member has gathered the wine glasses and frowns. "Arthur, you really don't need to help, you're our guest!"

"Nonsense," He says, smiling politely. "I was taught from a very young age that if one makes the dinner, the others wash the dishes. Please, it would be my pleasure." Helen purses her lips in thoughts, hands on her hips, before she shrugs.

"Fair enough. But at least allow me to help you." Arthur nods and carries the wine glasses to the kitchen, Helen quickly in tow with the dishes. They take a few trips to bring all the dishes in, and then Arthur stands next to her by the kitchen sink, rinsing and drying the dishes as she hands them to him. He notices Helen's happy little smile the entire time and wonders how she can remain so happy all the damn time - and then it occurs to him he's thought the same thing about Alfred. He gains the same smile on his face, looking down at his dish in silence. Helen bumps his hip and grins over at him.

"Did you enjoy the meal, Arthur, dear?"

"Yes. It's been a while since I had a homecooked meal." He admits with a chuckle; Helen pouts.

"Why's that?"

"Well, my family lives in the UK. Surely Alfred's told you that."

"Yes, of course. But you don't visit them often?"

"Ah…" Arthur thinks over his answer for a moment with a slight grimace. He didn't really want to get too much into it as he had with Alfred. It seemed much too intimate for someone he'd just met, much less someone _else's_ mother. "No, not often."

"That's too bad," She says, then hums. "Well, you're always free to join Alfred for a homecooked meal when _ever_ you want. We enjoyed having you. You've been all he's talking about all month." Arthur blushes at that. He knew that Alfred was excited to get him to enjoy Christmas, but… did he really talk about him that much? He's a little bit flattered…

"Really?" Arthur asks after he gathers his composure; Helen nods.

"Yeah! He was so excited to show you all his favorite parts of his favorite holiday." She sighs wistfully, rinsing down the sink and then her own hands. "I haven't seen him since the last time he did this…" Arthur's stomach falls a bit. The last time?

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, Alfie does these charity type work things all the time. He's brought home tons of people he's randomly met because he wanted to help them. He loves putting a smile on people's faces and…" Her voice fades out of his consciousness and Arthur grips the plate he was holding so tight his knuckles turn white. Charity work? He's done this before? Arthur's stomach falls further all the way to his knees and he doesn't know how to respond. His breath gets short. He knows she didn't mean mean it like that, but at the same time, did he? Did he really know anything about Alfred's true intentions? Did he really know that Alfred wasn't just taking pity on him and doing all of this as some sort of thing that he can pat himself on the back for after he drops Arthur back off after he gives him a somewhat good holiday?

 _Oh, God,_ Arthur thinks, dropping the plate into the sink as his stomach turns. Has this whole thing been a joke? He's told his parents and his brother _all_ about him. They were probably all laughing at him with every new thing he told them. He was probably just going to send him on his way tonight without a second thought, only to make him the joke of the evening, the joke of the _year_. Arthur thought this was _genuine_? He thought Alfred really _cared_ for him? He thought it all _meant_ something? What a _joke._ A fool. An imbecile.

"Arthur!" He jumps, snapping out of his panic attack as he sees Alfred had turned up behind him, put a hand on his shoulder, and smiled that _stupid_ happy smile at him. "I have something special for you. C'mon!"

A thousand thoughts race through Arthur's head as he follows Alfred into the living room, away from the rest of the group who were still sitting at the dining room table, trading stories with each other, just as they had been a few minutes before Arthur's revelation. What was Alfred going to show him? Or was he just going to reveal that he was just a project of Alfred's the whole time, right in front of everyone? Was he going to laugh in his face, tell him that he was stupid for thinking that Alfred just genuinely liked being his friend, tell him that he just felt bad for him, that-

There he goes again. Arthur shakes his head to get rid of his endless thoughts. _Damn it, Arthur,_ he thinks, curling his fingers into fists to keep himself from flat out panicking and trying to escape the suddenly much too small home. _Keep it together. Just get through the evening, and then you can cut all ties tomorrow. There's no need to make a scene._

"Here," Alfred sits down and when Arthur does the same, he places a square, wrapped present in his lap with a grin. Arthur doesn't move. "... Well, go on. Open it!" Terrified, Arthur slowly unwraps the paper that had been so delicately, ornately decorated with five or six bows and tons of lines of ribbons. He pulls the tape off the sides, scared of what might lurk underneath, scared of the consequences of the present that Alfred was giving him, scared of what it might mean for him afterwards. What it might mean for the _charity case_.

Slowly, he pulls back the flaps of a closed box and gasps. Inside the box, carefully packaged to as to mitigate any collisions between the fragile objects, was the exact same tea set that he'd told Alfred about not one week ago. His hands shake as he carefully lifts it out of the box, and he has to set them down in his lap carefully so he doesn't break it. He traces a finger around the delicate painting on the side of the teapot, then along the handle on the side and finally along the top. He examines the golden trim along every edge and feels his heart sink. He wanted to be happy about this gift but he was still so taken aback by Helen's statements that he didn't know what to think.

"Alfred…" He whispers, looking up at Alfred's face of absolute glee. "... h-how… how did you…"

"You said it was only available where you lived, right? Wrong! They started selling them on etsy a few years ago! I special ordered it and paid extra for express shipping. They had thankfully made extras for the Christmas season and- oh, man, they were so nice. They gave me an extra tea cup for free!" He rambles and blurts, moving his hands quickly as he nervously waits for Arthur's rating of his gift. When he says nothing, just keeps staring at it, Alfred's wide smile falters a bit. "Do… do you like it?" Arthur's silent for a few more moments before he carefully places the tea pot back in the padded box and stands.

"I have to go." He says quickly, walking towards the door and pulling on his shoes as fast as he can, not even bothering to lace them up.

"What?" Alfred asks, frowning deeply as he follows him. Arthur stumbles around for a second as he frantically pulls on the shoe and Alfred reaches out to steady him, but Arthur shoves his arm out to stop him. "Artie, what's going on?"

"Don't call me that."

"What?"

"Don't call me Artie." Alfred looks so dumbfounded, completely thrown off by this sudden change in attitude, and he stands close to him, too close, much too close because he'd grown accustomed to it. Arthur curses as he stumbles again, finally slipping on his shoe and grabbing his coat.

"Okay, fine, whatever. _Arthur_. What's going on?" Alfred asks, a bit annoyed. The emphasis on his name sends a stabbing feeling through his gut and he shakes his head, struggling to pull on his coat. He hardly notices the group that'd formed in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, examining the sudden commotion. He hardly notices them, but he does.

"I don't need to stand here and be watched and treated like I'm some poor lowlife who doesn't have a huge family that loves him and spends every waking second talking to each other, telling them all everything about anything." Arthur decides to forgo the jacket and instead rips open the door, stalking outside. Alfred pauses for a second, way beyond confused, before he quickly follows him outside, only in his socks, ignoring the cold of the snow.

"Arthur, what are you talking about?"

"You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about!" Arthur spins around and jabs a finger in his direction. " _You_ are the one who does all this _charity_ work, like bringing home random strangers and treating them like family, or like hanging out with me and making me feel like you were actually my friend when I was just a _project_!" He hisses, eyes darting back and forth between Alfred and the family who'd gathered in the front door, worried eyes and unwavering stares boring holes into Arthur.

"What? Arthur, I liked hanging out with you. I did all that because you're my friend-"

"You don't have to _lie_ to me anymore, Alfred. Your mom told me everything. She told me that you haven't been this happy since the last time you did this. Since the last time you took up another one of your projects. Since the last time you took pity on someone." Arthur can't stop talking, can't stop the aching in his heart as he does, can't stop the tears that start falling from his eyes. Alfred steps forward and reaches out to him, trying to comfort him, to calm him, to do _anything_ , but Arthur crosses his arms and stands straight, making Alfred retract his arm.

"Arthur, I don't know what my mom told you, but I _promise_ you, everything we did was just… for fun. It wasn't a project. It wasn't out of pity."

"Oh, please. You laughed at me every step of the way. You coerced me into insane positions and into insane ideas and expected me to be okay with it?"

"I thought you liked everything we did-"

"You _forced me_ to do all of it, Alfred! Of course I didn't like any of it! I was forced into embarrassing positions and-and I thought it was all for some good reason, so I went along with it, but it turns out I'm just another one of your _charity cases!"_

"Arthur, no-" He reaches out again but this time Arthur raises a hand to stop him, tears burning his eyes and an ache in his stomach he hasn't felt since his grandmother died.

"Don't! I don't… I don't need to listen to you anymore, alright? It doesn't matter what you say. This stupid holiday will always be just that; another stupid holiday. Nothing you can say or do will change my mind. That much is obvious now."

"Artie-"

"It's _Arthur_ , for the last _goddamn_ time!" He turns on his heel and heads down the driveway towards where he'd parked in the street. He turns to call out to him one last time as he stands with his open car door. "You can keep the stupid tea set. I don't need it."

"Please, don't do this, let me explain-"

"You don't need to."

Without another word, Arthur jumps into his car and screeches away, listening to his own sobs echoing off of the walls as he heads home.


	10. Underneath The Tree

"Goooood morning, everyone! It is currently six AM and I am on my third cup of coffee! Today is gonna be a cold one, with a high of ten degrees and a low of negative twenty, so bundle up!"

Arthur wakes up exhausted, with crusty eyes and a sore throat, slamming his hand on the radio for the first snooze. He'd gotten _maybe_ an hour of sleep, the rest of it spent crying and cursing and tossing and turning, overthinking and over-analyzing everything that had just happened. He couldn't stop thinking about everything he said. Did he really say that Alfred had treated him like a poor lowlife, without a loving family, and that he was just pitying him? He... He still felt like that was true. The aching in his heart when he remembered what Mrs. Jones had said reminded him that he had _in fact_ said that. He had in fact had a million thoughts racing through him and he did, in fact, say that. He kind of regretted it, but he also kind of... didn't.

Throughout the night he'd tried to convince himself that he'd overreacted. He'd glance at his phone, full of notifications titled "Alfred Jones", and try to convince himself that he should apologize to Alfred. But then he'd remember how Alfred laughed at him when he fell on the ice, embarrassed beyond belief. Then he'd remember how Alfred brought him to the library and forced him to dress up as an elf, then had the audacity to call him cute. Then he'd remember how Alfred let him get drunk at the Christmas party and how he didn't remember most of that night and he just kept thinking about how much he must have been laughing at him, how much he probably enjoyed seeing the usually strict Brit let loose and have fun and humiliate himself, and...

But then... he'd remember how sweet he was when he told him about his childhood, and how he never had a good Christmas. Then he'd remember how he looked at him when he was concussed and dopey. Then he'd remember how warm he was when they were waiting for the Christmas tree to light up. How close he'd gotten during the snowball fight. How he gazed down at him with those damned beautiful baby blues, and...

Groaning, Arthur turns over and pulls a pillow on top of his head. This was exactly why he hadn't gotten _any_ sleep last night. This was all that was racing through his head, thoughts of how Alfred had embarrassed him and enjoyed it, then thoughts of how much he genuinely enjoyed Alfred's company. He couldn't think straight. He couldn't figure any of it out. What was wrong with him?

He felt cheated. Lied to. Humiliated. As if he was just some cheap way for Alfred to feel better about himself, even though deep down he knew that wasn't the case. The way Alfred looked at him, the way he treated him, the way he was so patient with him, it was all so... genuine. But he couldn't dismiss the possibility that it wasn't. And that was exactly what scared Arthur and sent him in his usual spiral.

The alarm clock sounds again and startles Arthur. He slaps a hand on top of it, then spends a few moments to collect himself. He wipes away the crusty bits by his eyes, then rolls out of bed, stands up, and gets ready for work.

* * *

Steeling himself as he parks near the bank, Arthur's hands grip the steering wheel tightly as he figures out his next move, step by step. He had no idea what to expect. Would Alfred continue begging him to listen? He wasn't sure he could deal with that today. He didn't want to hear it. He needed time to figure out what had happened, even though Alfred didn't want to give him that time, just wanted to explain himself and his family and the dinner and- ugh. He'd lost count of how many texts he'd gotten from the other man, how many calls and voicemails he'd left. He stopped looking at them when he went to bed. Or, when he _tried_ to go to bed. He was sure he looked like absolute shit from the few hours of sleep he'd gotten.

With a deep sigh, Arthur ignores the mirror as he steps out of his car and locks it. A few steps further, he enters the bank, and glances around, a bit nervously, for the taller man, but… he wasn't there. Maybe he was running late? Alfred was never late, though. _Never early, either, however,_ Arthur notes with a quick glance at his watch. He was always right on time, completely perfect and never missing a day unless he was violently ill. The thought turns his stomach and he quickly shakes his head to get rid of the feeling, quickly entering his office and shutting the door.

He takes off his jacket and sets it on the coat rack, then puts his bag down next to his computer. But everything feels like it's going slower than normal, for some reason, and he finds himself glancing up at the door every now and then. He's still waiting for Alfred, he realizes, still waiting for the routine to pick up, still waiting for that damned smiling face to burst through his door with some sort of amazing news like he normally has.

With a groan and a bite of his lip, he whips open his door - much to the surprise of the few employees near him - and stalks off to the break room to make himself a cup of tea. He hasn't had to make himself a cup of tea in the mornings for years; he's taken Alfred for granted, it seems… He frowns, frustrated at the thought that he'd become so used to someone else taking care of him, as if he wasn't a grown adult that could make his own tea in the mornings.

The break room is filled with a few more employees, waiting for the bank to officially open to take their places as the tellers; they all look up with a wide eyed look as Arthur enters and puts his back to them, facing the sink and all of the fancy gadgets along the counter. Come to think of it, he doesn't think he's made a cup of tea at work _at all._ Prior to Alfred making him tea every morning, he'd bring his own tea from home. It only stopped when Alfred discovered he'd forgotten one morning. And then he took it upon himself to make him tea every day, whether he'd brought his own from home or not. Looking at the counter, his eyebrows furrow as he tries to figure out how to work everything. What in the hell is he supposed to do with _that_ container? Where does the water go? Is there even any tea bags in this blasted place?

"Uh," Someone finally breaks the silence. "Mornin', Arthur." He half-heartedly waves a hand in response, still staring at everything on the counter. Maybe if he… No, that wouldn't work, would it? Oh, the water must… No…

"Dammit," He groans and turns around to them. "Does anyone here know how any of this _works_?" He demands, waiting for the onslaught of snickering and jabs at his ego; however it doesn't come. Instead, they all look at him with eyes still wide and mouths hanging open slightly in shock. One person clears their throat.

"Uh… Well, you just put the coffee pods in-"

"No, I don't _want_ coffee. I hate coffee. I want _tea_." He demands again, annoyed at the fact that he has to explain himself again - another thing he'd grown so used to was Alfred just _knowing_ these things about him - and watches in surprise as still no one snickers. One of them nods and stands, walking over to the counter. They reach up into one of the tall cabinets and pull out a container full of tea bags.

"Alfred brought these in, so I guess you could probably use them." Arthur's heart sinks but he nods. He'll have to bring in his own so he doesn't have to use Alfred's from now on. He feels kind of bad as he realizes the other man must have been spending his money on these stupid tea bags this entire time. For years. Slowly, he leafs through them and picks a random one out; he just doesn't want to look at them anymore.

"So, like, if you just want hot water, you just gotta take the pod out. You might wanna run it once to get rid of any coffee taste, but…" The employee whose name he can't remember shows him how to run the stupid machine, then smiles happily at him. Arthur just nods in response, then sets on making his own mug of tea.

Eventually, after a few trial and error processes, he makes his way back to his office. On his way, he runs into Alfred, who's still wearing his jacket and looks like hell.

"Alfred," He greets with eyebrows raised. "You look-"

"Sorry I'm late, Mr. Kirkland," He says formally, quickly taking off his jacket with barely a glance in his direction. "Car troubles." Arthur closes his mouth. Mr. Kirkland? Since when does he call him that? He's never called him Mr. Kirkland, not even when he was first hired, not even when Arthur insisted on it, and especially not after they'd become friends…

Well, that answers his question. This is how it was going to go. Alfred wasn't going to call him Artie anymore, let alone Arthur. He wasn't going to greet him with his wide, happy-go-lucky smile and a new story from the weekend. He wasn't going to tell him about his family and make Arthur feel green with envy. He wasn't going to slip into his office every hour to check on him.

He wasn't going to be his friend anymore.

The realization sends Arthur's heart plummeting, and instead of standing around for any longer, he just shakes his head at Alfred as if to say 'it's alright' and quickly makes his way to his office. He swallows back the lump in his throat and sits down at his desk after shutting his door. The computer turns on as he bumps the mouse but he can't find it in himself to start answering emails. He doesn't feel like doing anything. He stares into his tea for a second before he takes a sip, then curses under his breath.

It's bitter.

* * *

"God dammit," Arthur hisses as he sits up in his bed, tossing the sheets to the side. He rubs his hands on his face. He couldn't sleep. Again. Not that that was much of a surprise; he hadn't been able to sleep through the night since he'd told Alfred off. He'd been exhausted after waking up on this Saturday morning and had decided to take a nap, something he usually never did. But after tossing and turning, yet again, for an hour or two, he realized it was a fruitless effort. The clock on his bedside table angrily blinks at him - 3:26 PM.

It'd been a few days and, frankly, Arthur was more miserable than he'd ever been in his entire life. He couldn't sleep, didn't have very much of an appetite, and he was falling behind at work. He couldn't explain why to his boss - he didn't think 'I lost my one and only friend' was a good enough reason - so he just gave him an arbitrary explanation that he hasn't been able to focus lately but it'll pass. But it isn't passing. It just keeps happening. He finds his eyes wandering away from his computer screen every few minutes, waiting for the familiar face that used to visit him almost every hour to burst through and sit down and immediately start talking. But he never did. When he was out on the bank's floor, he found himself glancing every now and then in Alfred's direction, only to find a different employee that he didn't even remember hiring. Every now and then when Alfred _did_ open the door to his office, he spoke formally and continuously called him Mr. Kirkland; Arthur could never find the words to tell him to stop calling him that. He hated that name. He wanted to be called Arthur, or Art, or, just… Anything but that. When he left for the day, usually an hour later because he was waiting for someone to walk out with him, his eyes kept darting around, wondering if he truly was the last one to leave, wondering if maybe Alfred had just stayed later as well, but that was never the case. Any time he left his office at the same time as Alfred was leaving, he always watched, his stomach turning over and over again, as he left the building with the other guards, or sometimes one of the pretty girls he'd employed. Arthur would stand by his office for a second, biting his tongue to keep the lump in his throat from causing any noise to escape, before he'd swiftly exit without a second glance in Alfred's direction. Occasionally, Alfred would look over at him. Arthur wouldn't meet his gaze; but he knew it was there, could feel the burning glance on the back of his head as he unlocked his car, could feel the icy blue eyes on his car through his peripheral vision as he screeched out of the parking lot, desperate to get away from this feeling.

But he could never quite escape it. Everything right now reminded him of Alfred. He felt like a dumb school girl who'd gotten her heart crushed by the school's quarterback and he hated it. He hated every _second_ of it. He couldn't get Alfred's laugh out of his head, couldn't get rid of the fucking smile burned into his memory, couldn't get rid of his caring, loving gaze when they'd almost-

God. He really _was_ a school girl who'd gotten her heart crushed by the school's quarterback.

With a huff, he jumps out of his bed and pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a warmer sweater. Even with the cold front subsiding, he was freezing all the time. He heads outside after pulling on his shoes and winter jacket, and before he knows it, he finds himself in front of the skating rink that Alfred had taken him to. Surprisingly, they were still open, though only a few pairs of people were skating in circles around the rink. He finds himself walking over to the skating rental hut and asking for his size; he dons the skates and slowly hobbles over to the ice, hands outstretched as he shivers. One skate carefully steps onto the ice, followed by the other, Alfred's words echoing in his memory.

Before he knows it, he's gliding easily on the ice, staring at his feet the entire time. He doesn't know why he's doing this. Doesn't know why he would ever bother going skating by himself, especially when he was surrounded by what felt like a thousand other people skating in pairs. He doesn't know why he felt compelled to come down here, but he did. He was here now and he was suddenly crying and he couldn't stop himself from feeling more alone than he ever had in his entire life. He brushes the tears from his face and stumbles on the ice - thankfully, he catches himself, but he can't stop thinking of the warm, safe feeling of Alfred's arms around him the last time he _had_ fallen on the ice. He can't stop thinking about the strong hands holding his hips and teaching him how to skate, can't stop thinking about the whirring wind around him as Alfred skated at top speeds around everyone else here, zipping to and fro and spinning around to grin at Arthur without a care in the world.

God, what is wrong with him? Why can't he stop crying? Why can't he let go of their friendship and move on? Why can't he just go back to how he was living before he'd gotten the job at the bank - hell, even just back to before he'd allowed Alfred to burst into his life every day? He'd lost friends before. And for much better reasons. He'd been alone before, had been alone for a majority of his life, to be honest, only finding solace in books and movies and work. He was okay with that. At least... he had been.

Frustrated, Arthur makes his way over to an exit and quickly takes off the shoes. He returns them without a second thought and stalks over to his car.

But, when he unlocks it, he just stands there, keys in his hand and door halfway open. He didn't want to go home. He didn't want to stay here. He couldn't fall asleep anyway. But he didn't have anywhere else to go. Maybe a walk would help? Maybe the cold air would help clear his head, or at least the movement may exhaust him enough that he'd fall asleep when he finally got home. Or maybe fall asleep behind the wheel. Either option sounded okay to Arthur at this point.

So he closes the door and locks his car again, taking off in the direction opposite the skating rink. He ignores the squealing of giggly girls behind him, ignores the stabbing feelings of jealousy, and walks briskly through the town. He shoves his hands further into the pockets, stuffs his face into his jacket to protect it from the cold, and ignores the street signs, perfectly fine with getting lost. Perfectly fine with winding up in another town and having to start over again with nothing but the money in his wallet and the clothes on his back. Perfectly fine with never seeing Alfred again and forgetting these feelings of…

What even _were_ these feelings? He wanted to call them hatred. Wanted to say he was just annoyed at Alfred, annoyed at everything that had happened, maybe even that he truly _was_ okay with never seeing Alfred again, but he couldn't possibly actually do that. Alfred took up all of his thoughts. He wanted Alfred to be happy, but more importantly, he wanted Alfred to be happy because of Arthur himself. He wanted to make Alfred happy. But why? Why did he feel the need to be the sole source of Alfred's happiness? And why did he feel so hurt when Alfred found happiness elsewhere, without him, without even a second glance or second thought of Arthur at all?

He glances up and gasps lightly. Somehow he'd ended up in a part of town that resembled a suburb and along the streets, the houses were decorated top to bottom. The streetlights were on, but more than that, the streets were lit up with Christmas decorations around every pole, on every tree, and even stuck in the snow were some decorations. The bushes had lights on them, there were little flags that wished passers by a happy holidays, and the stars seemed to gleam even brighter than ever before. Each and every single house on the block had lights all along the roof, along the garages, along the trees and the porches and... His chest wells up with something he's never felt before; tears stream down his face for a reason he can't place and he lets out a sob through a smile. It was all so beautiful and it was filling him with some sort of feeling, something he can't quite place but can only sort of describe as-

Love.

It's love.

He loves the lights. He loves the snow. He loves the stupid decorations. He loves… He loves Alfred.

How had he not realized this before? How had he not seen this? He'd been thinking this entire time how much like a school girl with a crush he'd been acting, and yet it'd taken him this long to realize that everything he felt about Alfred was love. He was jealous of his family because he loved them. He was jealous of his friends at work because they were feeling his love and affection now, and he wasn't. He was jealous of the fucking kids skating around the ice rink at six o'clock because _they_ were in love, because _they_ were free to hug and hold hands and kiss and-

Oh God. Everything he said to Alfred… none of it was true. Absolutely none of it. He hadn't listened to Alfred but he heard every word he said. He'd read his texts. He'd listened to the voicemails. But he didn't want to hear it. He wanted to be right because he didn't know how to react to the feelings he had been feeling for… for _years,_ he now realizes. He didn't know how it felt to be in love, and it scared him. Dammit, he was terrified! He'd never felt so vulnerable but so safe at the same time as he did when he was with Alfred! And instead of letting him be vulnerable and trusting Alfred to take care of his vulnerability, he looked for the first sign of anything wrong, and took it as a reason to distrust Alfred, as a reason to throw everything they'd- that _Alfred_ had worked so hard on away. As a reason to disavow their friendship and as a reason to stop moving towards something more because Arthur didn't understand it and didn't know how to properly process it. He convinced himself that Alfred didn't feel the same way, and had a panic attack when something made this fact seem true. When his mother told him he had "done this before", he took it to mean what he wanted it to mean. He heard what he wanted. He knew now that he was wrong, knew that he'd overreacted, but was too stubborn to really listen to Alfred, to even really listen to _himself_ , and now he'd broken Alfred's heart. He'd broken his _own_ heart. He'd made everything worse by lashing out at him, instead of being an _adult_ and having a conversation, instead of letting Alfred explain what his mother had told him. He'd been a fucking _fool._

Alfred didn't _pity_ him. He liked spending time with him. He _was_ being genuine. When he laughed at him at the skating rink, he didn't mean it to be mean. He was laughing because he thought it was funny and - Arthur laughs to himself a bit as he remembers how much he struggled - it _was_ funny. When he called him cute while he was dressed as an elf, he _meant_ it. Arthur had always been insecure about his looks but Alfred thought he looked cute, dressed as an elf. Alfred was worried about telling him about his drunken rampage the following morning because he knew how he was going to feel about it. He knew he was going to be embarrassed and maybe just want to forget it all. He knew in his heart that Alfred hadn't been laughing at him, that instead he'd been worried the entire time and- hell, he'd taken him _home_ for God's sake! If he wanted to laugh at him he would have let him stay there until God knows when! Alfred had never done anything _ever_ to humiliate Arthur, at least not on purpose, and he couldn't possibly understand why he'd thought that was the case. Couldn't possibly understand where he'd gotten all of his worries from except from his own anxiety and spiraling tendencies.

Coming out of his trance like realization, he sees it had started snowing. Now he really felt like he was in one of the bad Hallmark Christmas movies he'd seen time and time again.

He lets out a loud laugh, pulls his hands out of his pockets and holds them out, catching snowflakes in his bare hands. He pushes his hood back and takes in a deep breath.

He was right. The cold air definitely helped clear his head.

* * *

Nervously, Arthur steps up to the familiar red door and raises his hand to knock. But he hesitates. He hasn't stopped to think since he realized he was in love with Alfred. Everything felt like he was in one of those stupid, cheesy romantic comedies, and he loved it. He wanted to see Alfred's stupid-happy face again. He wanted to see those beautiful blue eyes staring down at him with so much love and caring and happiness and… He just wanted to see Alfred. He couldn't really explain it. Every time he thought about what he said to Alfred, his chest hurt, his stomach dropped to his knees, his head hurt, his... He couldn't believe he thought for a second that Alfred had a mean bone in his body. He couldn't believe he'd almost thrown away everything that the other man had shown him in the past month, all over a stupid misunderstanding. All because Arthur doesn't know how to handle his feelings. All because Arthur is in love with Alfred but wouldn't admit it.

Before he can stop to talk himself out of it, he knocks three times on the door, then steps back, onto the snow below the porch. He waits for what seems like hours, hands in his jacket pockets, until eventually, a familiar face opens the door.

"Hell-oh. You." Matthew says, narrowing his eyes and closing the door to hide who was behind it. "What do you want." He asks flatly, shocking Arthur a bit. He'd never expect Matthew to be able to sound so harsh; just from the few hours he'd spent with Alfred's family, it was clear who Matthew was. Or… it _was_ clear. But now Arthur's world was upside down, so he supposed everything he thought was clear before wasn't so crystal.

"I…" Arthur starts, then stops. He tries again. "Matthew, listen, I-"

"Look, he doesn't want to see you, okay?" Matthew says, stepping outside the door and closing it behind him, as if protecting the rest of the household from this conversation. "You broke his heart. All he wanted was to show you what this holiday meant to him and you slapped it right back in his face. I'll take a message but only if that message is 'I'm sorry'. If not, you can leave right now, and I'll forget this ever happened. I won't even tell Alfred you stopped by to save him further heartbreak." Arthur stands, mouth open, unsure of what to say and hating it. He'd never been this unsure of himself… he felt like a fish out of water. He just wanted to see Alfred, to apologize in person, to try and mend what he'd broken. He knew he fucked up. He couldn't stand that he fucked up.

"Matthew, please-"

"I'm not hearing an apology." Matthew says coldly, before turning back to the door. "Look, if you don't have anything good to say, then you're wasting my time."

"I love him."

This makes Matthew stop, door an inch open as he was heading back inside. His grip tightens on the doorknob, and he slowly closes it again. He turns around.

"You _love_ him?" Matthew scoffs and quickly walks down the steps to tower over Arthur - Arthur silently curses his genes for making him so much shorter than everyone else, as he backs away quickly from Matthew, slightly afraid of the taller, stronger man. He'd thought Matthew was rather scrawny, always bent over or huddling close to his boyfriend, but Matthew looked just as built as Alfred. He suddenly slightly regretted his decision to go to the Jones's house, even if he _knew_ Alfred would be here.

"How _dare you_." Matthew hisses, glaring down at the meek man. "How dare you say what you said to Alfred, do what you did, and then come crawling back here, expecting me to just-just let you see him after you broke his-no, after you _shattered_ him like that. He _tried_ to explain everything. He tried for _days_ to fix what _you_ broke. He is the kindest fucking person on the face of the planet, and you _ignored_ him. You expect _me_ to forgive you just because you _love_ him all of a sudden? You expect me to let you into this house after you turned everything upside down?"

"Please, just let me talk to him, Matthew-"

"Why would I do that? Why would I _believe_ you?" Matthew shouts, and Arthur sucks in a breath. Man, Matthew could be intimidating when he wanted to. Perhaps that's why he was so good at hockey. "You… He's been wallowing since you pulled his heart straight out of his chest and stomped on it. This is the happiest time of his year and instead he's been sitting in his old bed since Friday night, when _you_ told him how you _really_ felt-"

"That's just it!" Arthur shouts, feeling tears he didn't know were there fall down his cheeks. "I-I _don't_ really feel that way! I love him, Matthew, I do, I just… I... " He takes a deep breath and looks down. Matthew crosses his arms, staring down at him with cold eyes, waiting for him to finish his thought.

"... If… If he truly doesn't want to see me, I'll… I'll leave. I'll ask to be transferred and let him stay where he's happy. I'll-I'll move states- damn it all, I'll move out of the bloody _country_ if that's what he wants! But… I just… I need to see him. I need to tell him in person that I am so sorry." He looks back up at Matthew. "Please, Matthew."

Matthew stares him down for a few moments, arms crossed over his chest. Arthur feels like he could start melting from how harshly he was being glared at. Suddenly, the door is opened behind Matthew and he whips around, harsh gaze softening when he sees Gilbert step outside.

"Matt, your mom-oh. Hey, Arthur!" He says cheerfully, then notices the tears streaming down his face and the crossed arms on Matthew's chest. He sucks in a breath, then lets it out with a nervous laugh. "Oh man, what's goin' on, guys?"

"Arthur's decided he loves Alfred."

"That's great!"

" _No,_ it's not _great_ , Gilbert," Matthew hisses, frowning over at his boyfriend, as if disappointed that Gilbert wasn't on the same page as him. Gilbert gives Arthur a small smile as he steps down into the snow beside Matthew, placing a hand on his shoulder, turning him away from the Brit to speak with him quietly.

"C'mon, isn't this what we wanted since Alfred started talking about him?"

"Well-" Matthew huffs, glancing at Arthur and lowering his voice. "Yes. But I'm not letting him back into Alfred's life that easily! _You_ know how broken he's been! He's never been like that, even when-"

"Matty. Come on. He's trying. I'd say coming here, knowing his entire family is here, knowing his entire family probably hates him now," Gilbert says with a slightly louder voice, letting Arthur know just exactly how fucked he is right now, before he lowers it again. "I think that effort and bravery warrants at least an _attempt_ at an apology. Let the man at least apologize in _person_ to Alfred." Gilbert has a soft, caring smile on his face and Arthur's hands twist around in their pockets as he looks away, unsure of what he should do.

"But-" Gilbert cuts him off with just a tilt of his head and a raise of his eyebrows, and Matthew groans and throws his hands up in the air, defeated. He could never say no to Gilbert.

"Fine!" He shouts, then turns to Arthur, who looks up with a hopeful smile. "Fine. I'll tell him you're here and want to talk to him, but I can't guarantee he'll come out."

Without a word, Matthew swivels on his heel and enters the house again, Gilbert following quickly behind him. He turns to grin, slightly apologetically, at Arthur as he rubs the back of his head.

"Sorry, man. He's uh… He's a bit overprotective of his lil' bro, y'know?" Arthur smiles slightly and nods, and Gilbert heads inside, closing the door behind him to keep the cold out. Arthur scuffs the ground with his shoe, wiping away the last of the tears on his cheeks as he waits. And waits. And… waits. And waits... some more... Arthur sucks in a breath and nods to himself. _That seems about right,_ he thinks. He waits for a few more moments, just in case Alfred really _had_ decided to come out, to listen to him, but it quickly becomes apparent that he wasn't going to. He turns on his heels and starts to walk back to his car.

"What was I thinking… How stupid…" He murmurs to himself, sniffing.

"I didn't take you for a quitter, Kirkland."

Arthur whips around and his eyes widen at the sight of Alfred leaning against the closed front door. He offers a sad smile and puts his hands into his sweatshirt pockets. _God,_ Arthur thinks. _He looks horrible._ Alfred stands with a small, sad smile on his face and bags under his eyes. His skin is pale, and his hair is messy and he's wearing pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt; he looks as if he hasn't gotten out of bed for days and Arthur's heart falls into his knees at the thought that he did this to Alfred. That he caused such a cheerful, wonderful man to be so broken he couldn't even function properly. That he is the reason why the man who used to celebrate Christmas several months in advance couldn't be bothered to get wrapped up in the festivities anymore.

"Alfred…" He quickly rushes forward and wipes away the tears in his eyes. "Alfred, I'm-I'm so sorry, I-"

"Look, it's okay," Alfred raises a palm up and cuts him off. Arthur freezes where he is on the second step to the porch. "You don't have to apologize. This whole thing… the stupid ideas were all mine. I'm sorry I forced you to do all of that. I didn't… I didn't mean to embarrass you-"

"Alfred-"

"Let me finish." Alfred says, looking sternly over at him. Arthur closes his mouth, but steps up to stand in front of him on the porch. He was just repeating everything he'd said in all of his texts, in all of his voicemails, and Arthur didn't need to be reminded of it again. But Alfred felt the need to say it out loud, since Arthur had never really responded to him. He wanted to be heard. He wanted to apologize in person as well, even though Arthur knew he didn't have _anything_ to apologize for. "I shouldn't have pushed you out of your comfort zone so much. I didn't think about it. I just… wanted you to be happy and enjoy these things as much as I do." He smiles sadly again and looks away.

"Alfred, no-"

"It's okay, Artie. Don't worry about it."

"Alfred, just-just shut up, for one _second_!" Arthur shouts, startling Alfred. " _I'm_ a fool! I'm a _bloody_ fool!"

"What-?"

"All of those things you made me do. I loved each and every one. I loved ice skating with you. I loved watching those cheesy movies. I loved wrapping presents, I loved dressing up as a damn _elf,_ Alfred. I loved it. I loved all of it because I was with you."

"Arthur, you don't have to lie-"

"I'm not!" Arthur shouts again, what was left of his heart breaking into minuscule pieces at the phrase Alfred used. He was using his own words against him. He was bitter, and hurt, and upset, and he had every right to be. Alfred stares down at him with a frown and Arthur takes a breath. "Look… I… I've never felt this way. I didn't know. And I'm… I'm not very good at this whole… _feelings_ thing," he admits with a small laugh, glancing up at Alfred to see his lips twitch up into a small smile.

"And I-I knew it before I knew it, you know? And I was... scared. This was all new stuff for me and I was terrified. I was already scared you didn't feel the same way, and then at the lighting ceremony..." He blushes a bit and Alfred looks away. "...But I thought… When your mother said you'd done this before, I thought… I thought maybe I was just another one of your charity projects."

"You weren't-!"

"I know!" Arthur cuts him off as Alfred had started to reach over towards him, to stop his thoughts from spiraling again. "I know. I just... It made me think that... that I was the only one who felt this way. I thought that everything we did meant nothing to you. So, I got jealous, and angry, and-and I didn't know what to do. So I did what I do best and I pushed you away." He waits for Alfred to interject, and when he doesn't, he continues.

"I thought I would feel better if I told you off, but it just festered inside me. I realized… that everything you did, you did _for me_. I've never had anyone try this hard to make me happy. I've never... " Arthur's eyes are darting all over the place, desperately trying to think of something to say. What could he possibly say that would take back all the wrong he did? What could he possibly do that would change how Alfred feels about him right now?

"I'm sorry for what I did, for what I said. I'm so, _so_ sorry, Alfred. I know now that I didn't mean any of it, I never did, I was just-just reacting because… Because I don't process feelings well, and because the tiny thought in the back of my head that I might be in love with you scared me beyond belief, because what if you didn't feel the same way, because what if it _was_ just a joke to you, because... because I'm a bloody fool and I didn't know it was because..." He looks down sadly and shakes his head. "But if you hate me, if you never want to see me again, I understand. I just needed you to know that I love… I love being with you, and…"

"Artie…" He looks up to meet wide, bright blue eyes staring down at him, a small smile accompanying them. "I loved everything we did too. It meant the world to me. Everything with you was different- a-a good different." He reaches down and grabs Arthur's hands.

"I may have done all of that stuff with you, stuff I've done with other people, but it wasn't because it didn't mean anything to me. It was because I wanted you to be a part of my life. I didn't take you to all of my favorite spots, spend time with you, and try to convince you to love Christmas just because I wanted to-to make fun of you, or something. I took you to those places because I liked you, and I wanted… I wanted to know if you liked me too and I wanted you to know how I felt, but I couldn't just _tell_ you that, 'cause, well..." He trails off, but Arthur knows exactly what he means. He squeezes his hands and smiles up at him, then reaches up and brushes away some of the tears on his cheeks.

"Christmas just means so _much_ to me and I wanted you to know how much you meant to me too." Alfred says softly, rubbing the back of one of Arthur's hands with his thumb. Arthur responds with a squeeze of his hand and a small sniff.

"I'm so glad you did, Alfred. I'm so sorry I didn't realize it sooner."

"It's okay!" Alfred says quickly, shaking his head. "I should have said something or-"

"No, no, I should have!"

"What would you have even said?"

"I don't- I..." Arthur looks down with a small laugh. "I don't know." They laugh together, then go silent again. He nervously stares at Alfred's hands, wrapped around his own, before he pulls them out of his hold and instead wraps them around his neck. He pulls Alfred close and Alfred responds happily, holding him tightly in his arms as he buries his face into Arthur's neck. _He's freezing_ , Arthur sadly thinks.

"I'm sorry..." Arthur apologizes as he pulls back from the tight hug, as much as he didn't want to. As much as he would have preferred to stay like that all evening. But Alfred was freezing, only standing in socks and a sweatshirt and thin pants. He should get back inside. Alfred snorts and brushes back a few bits of Arthur's hair.

"Stop apologizing. I forgive you." Arthur takes a quick glance towards the windows next to the door, notices quick movement, and smirks.

"Do you think your family will forgive me?" Alfred looks behind him and laughs slightly. He shrugs.

"Probably. Although Matthew will probably take the longest..." He says with a fond smile down at Arthur, who nods and bites his lip. He glances up at the ceiling of the porch, and his smile widens.

"You know, there's one more Christmas tradition you didn't show me." Alfred's eyebrows pinch together and he frowns.

"There is? What did I-"

Alfred is cut off by Arthur pressing his lips against the other's. Alfred responds eagerly, wrapping his arms around the other's waist again and pulling him closer; Arthur uses his arms still wrapped around his neck to pull him down, so he doesn't have to reach up on his tip-toes so much. Arthur can't believe how soft Alfred's lips are, and how much he tastes like peppermint. He can't believe how strong Alfred's arms feel around him, how warm and safe he finally feels in those arms, how much he wants to stay in this embrace for the rest of his life, if just to make the other man happy. Most of all he can't believe that Alfred forgives him, that Alfred feels the same way, that Alfred is still so warm and loving and caring despite everything Arthur had said to him. He can't believe he's here now, holding Alfred close against him, hands entangling in his hair and lips against the man he'd been in love with for so long, even if he'd only now just realized it. He tilts his head and presses himself even closer to Alfred. He doesn't think he'll ever completely apologize for everything he did, but he'll work as hard as he possibly can to make Alfred happy, for as long as he'll let him.

After a few moments, Alfred pulls away and laughs softly, breathily, faces inches away.

"Mistletoe?"

"Mistletoe." Arthur nods with a wide grin, making Alfred laugh and reach up to cup his cheeks, kissing him once more.

Suddenly the door opens, and Alfred's mother stands on the other side, cooing and cheering.

"Oh my God! Finally!" She squeals and rushes out to hug the two, swaying side to side happily. "I just _knew_ it!"

"Mom," Alfred whines, though he doesn't stop smiling. She reaches up and kisses Arthur on either cheek, before grabbing one of each of their hands and pulling them inside.

"Come in, come in, get out of the cold! Take off your shoes, come have dinner, Arthur, come-!"

"Wait, mom, hang on," Alfred pulls his hand out of his mom's and turns to Arthur. "I'm not making Arthur do anything he doesn't want to anymore. So… if he wants to come inside-"

"I do," Arthur says, looking up at Alfred. He turns towards Mrs. Jones and smiles. "I'd love to." She grins and just rushes back inside to set another seat at the table for Arthur. Alfred turns towards him with a frown, and holds one of his hands.

"Arthur, you really don't have to come in if you don't want to, I promise. We can do this some other time."

"No, it's okay. Really. I'll be fine as long as you're with me." Arthur smiles up at him and then reaches up, somewhat hesitant, and kisses his cheek. Alfred smiles in response, taking his cheeks in his hands and kissing him deeply once again. They stand in the doorway for a second until Gilbert yells at them to shut the door and stop letting the cold in; Alfred pulls away, but kisses him a few more times, quickly, as if he wants to pull away but doesn't, as if he would spend the rest of the evening out in the cold with Arthur if it meant he could keep kissing him. Eventually he leads him inside and shuts the door.

Glancing around the small house, he smiles as he notices that the Christmas decorations are still up, just spiffed up a bit with New Years Eve decorations. Matthew sits, looking a bit trapped, on Gilbert's lap, his arms crossed as he sends a small glare Arthur's way. Gilbert runs a hand along his shin, leans up to whisper something into his ear, making Matthew snort and turn towards him with a small giggle; Gil grins, holding Matthew close as he chooses to tuck into his shoulder instead, and then turns to Arthur with a thumbs up.

"It'll take him a little bit, but, don't worry, he'll warm up to you again." Alfred whispers into his ear. Arthur chuckles nervously.

"I didn't know your brother could be so scary," He whispers back, taking another glance in his direction. Even though he'd wrapped his arms around Gilbert and was instead looking over at the fireplace, and Gilbert was whispering into his ear and grinning and Matthew was giggling and whispering back, looking every bit in love with Gilbert as Arthur felt with Alfred, he couldn't shake off the feeling of true fear he'd felt while Matthew was glaring down at him, as if he was poised to attack at any moment. Alfred just nods.

"Yeah," He draws out, wrapping his arm around his shoulder. "It's kind of awesome. He spends most of the time all meek and demure, but then you get on his bad side and you never hear the end of it."

"Oh, great." Arthur says with a roll of his eyes. His cheeks burn a bright pink as Alfred leads him with his arm on his shoulder, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, to a different area of the house, so Matthew doesn't glare at him the entire time.

"No, I mean, like..." Alfred struggles to come up with some sort of reassurance, but can't think of anything. He shrugs and smiles sheepishly. "I mean, it'll be fine. Eventually. Probably." Arthur resists the urge to apologize for what he'd done again, choosing instead to sit down on the stairs with Alfred, his arm still around his shoulders as they watch the rest of the family before dinner is ready. Helen is moving to and fro within the kitchen, preparing anything and everything she can. Ned stands dutifully outside the kitchen, waiting for orders from his wife, but remaining silent and staring on with the same loving look that Alfred is gazing at him with now. Arthur turns and meets his gaze, and Alfred leans in close, closing the distance and kissing him deeply again - Arthur turns into the kiss and pulls him closer by his sweatshirt.

"Alright, alright, lovebirds!" Helen suddenly calls as she brings the main dish to the table. "Soups on! Come on, stop canoodling and come eat! I made all this food and I'm not going to stand here as you just make out in my house!" Arthur blushes and pulls away from Alfred, who snorts and presses his forehead onto Arthur's shoulder.

"Don't worry," Arthur says, patting his cheek lovingly. "We'll have plenty of time later." Alfred looks up, hopeful, then grins and stands up, pulling him up along with him.

Arthur sits down at the dinner table, hand still gripping Alfred's tightly as he glances around at the family. Matthew sits in front of him, eyeing him up but being distracted by Gilbert every now and then (Arthur sends a silent "thank you" to Gilbert every time he does, and makes a mental note to do something nice for Gilbert to truly thank him for his efforts). Helen talks their ears off, passing out bowls full of mashed potatoes, peas, every bit of the kitchen she could think to make, and Ned smiles peacefully down at her from the other end of the table, every bit of love radiating from him though he remains as silent as ever.

Normally, Arthur would have loved nothing more than to go home and relax with a nice cup of tea after such a stressful event. But if he learned anything from Alfred, it was that sometimes, stepping outside your comfort zone was necessary. As he sits down next to Alfred at the dinner table, and Alfred rubs the back of his palm for an added comfort, and Helen continues babbling on after passing out the dinner, and Matthew finally smiles the slightest bit at him, he's never felt more comfortable. He feels like he finally has a family. He feels…

He hates to admit it, but Alfred's bet worked. He finally loves Christmas.

* * *

 _And there you have it! All's well that ends well or whatever! Thank you so much, all of you, for reading and reviewing!_

 _I love writing fluff like the end of this so uh... there's probably going to be one more chapter... just so you guys know. :p_


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